Army Truck Driver Tells of Adventure, Romance in Iraq

Once just a "dusty specialist" who drove U.S. Army trucks in post-invasion Iraq, Miyoko Hikiji shows up to the book store in military-writer mufti. The author of "All I Could Be: The Story of a Woman Warrior in Iraq," wears a smart khaki shirt-dress, with an American flag pin on her collar. Still, one gets the feeling that the native Iowan would be just as comfortable swapping her bayonet heels for desert combat boots.

Like most veterans, however, she'd rather be judged on deeds, capabilities, and character, rather than appearances.

"Friends, family, and the people at church know me as a mom and an Army wife, and know nothing of my military career," Hikiji tells her audience, introducing herself to a friendly, platoon-sized gathering at Beaverdale Books, a cozy neighborhood independent in Des Moines, Iowa. Then, reading from her recently published book, she casually drops the F-bomb. Twice. In the first 30 seconds.

The amicable audience settles in for the ride:

The view from left to right for hours was the same—camels, road, sand. Then sand, road, sand. Then sand, road, camels with herder. Road. Sand. [...]

As we approached the first town in southern Iraq, I grabbed a small baseball bat I'd set on the seat and pointed out the driver's side window. In marker I'd inscribed it with "This means get the f--- off my truck in all languages" [...]

Hikiji's Iraq was the one with Desert Combat Uniforms and antiquated trucks, hillbilly armor and makeshift gun turrets. "We didn't have the stuff that you see now on TV [...]" she says. "We didn't have phones, Skype, laundry—the stuff that makes war look like a training exercise."

She and her fellow soldiers received more enemy fire than they returned, Hikiji says, but she delivers her observations with more wit than bitterness. She doesn't shy away from hard topics, including what it means to have women and men serve in the same Army. During the course of a deployment, soldiers routinely form new friendships, alliances, and even romantic relationships. Sometimes those connections bend. Sometimes they break. Hikiji, who was not married when she deployed, certainly kisses and tells. Without falling prey to salaciousness, she accurately depicts the high-school-level hypocrisies and testosterone-fueled minefields faced daily by female soldiers.

One part True Adventure, one part True Romance, then, this is a military memoir that offers something to nearly every reader: Whether soldier or spouse, leader or follower, or friend or foe to women in uniform.

Having enlisted in the U.S. Army for college benefits in 1995, Hikiji had returned to her home state of Iowa and joined the National Guard while a journalism and psychology student at Iowa State University. When Iowa's 2133rd Transportation Company (2133rd Trans. Co.) was notified for federal mobilization in 2003, she was three days away from the end of her enlistment with the guard. She chose to re-enlist for another term, she says, because "I didn't want to miss the opportunity. I wanted to do what I'd been training to do for so many years."

In addition to writing personal letters and the unit newsletter, Hikiji kept an extensive journal and mission log while on the 18-month deployment. "I had thousands of pages when I got home." Still, she didn't start actively writing a memoir until 2010—more than five years after deployment, as well as getting married to a fellow National Guard soldier.

"I only started writing after I found I was empowered, that I could help make a difference," she says. "Before that, I was just trying to figure out what [the war] meant to me."

As part of her new mission to explain soldier and veteran life, Hikiji also seeks to celebrate two 2133rd Trans. Co. soldiers who died during the unit's deployment—Spc. Aaron J. Sissel, 22, and Pfc. David M. Kirchoff, 31. Two others were seriously injured while overseas. "It is very important to remember that, in all my healthy days, they and their families had a very different experience than the rest of us," she says.

After five months of training at Fort McCoy, Wis. and in Kuwait, the Iowa unit was attached to 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment in Western Iraq. While based at the former Al Asad Air Base, the unit's 2-soldier truck crews could spend hours, days, or weeks out on missions.

"When I first joined the National Guard, I didn't like it," admits Hikiji. "It didn't feel like the Army. It was too relaxed."

"Then, I found out that the truck drivers on active duty Army just drove trucks. The truck drivers in the National Guard, however, were also electricians, plumbers, firefighters, teachers. We were always fixing stuff up. Vehicles, living quarters. The active-duty units eventually figured out: If you needed something fixed, you came over to Hawkeye."

(Members of 2133rd Trans. Co. wore the Iowa National Guard's "Hawkeye" patch, the shape of which is based on the 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division's patch.)

Something of a Swiss Army knife herself, the author-mother-veteran is also an occasional actor and model. She appears on the cover of her own book—a woman contemplating a composite image of dog-tags and a female soldier. Hikiji took a professional risk and paid for the photography out of pocket, then sent the cover to her publisher for consideration. "They could have said 'no,'" she says. Better to ask forgiveness than permission.

At the book event in Beaverdale, Hikiji deftly navigates through hot-potato questions, some of which seem like they could easily cook off like grenades:

• Given the backdrop sexual assaults in the military, would she recommend military service to young women and men today? "I would never tell someone they couldn't serve [...] but I'd want people do their research and know the risks. There's such a variety of experiences, and much depends on local commanders."

• What was the Iraq War really all about? "I know people who were involved in the search for Weapons of Mass Destruction," she says, "but I was just a dusty specialist."

• Don't all veterans have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (P.T.S.D.)? Hikiji replies that PTSD has three components: The experience of a traumatic event; stressors such as joblessness, homelessness, and social isolation; and lack of a support network. "All of you are now part of my support network," she tells the audience.

• Most of all, how are friends and family going to react to the book, particularly since you openly discuss love and sex downrange?

"I wouldn't want someone to reject me based on the person I was then," she says. "That was a necessary person."

Her own preschool-aged daughters can read the book when they're 14, she says. "Otherwise, they would never have the opportunity to know the person that I was then."

What about the people at church?

She shrugs, leans back on the desk, and smiles the big smile: The happy warrior. An everyday iconoclast. The veteran next door.

"I guess I'll find out Sunday."

*****

"All I Could Be: The Story of a Woman Warrior in Iraq" is available in trade paperback
and Amazon Kindle formats.

An official book launch event is planned for Fri., Jun. 7, from 6:30 to 8 p.m. at the Iowa Gold Star Museum, on the Camp Dodge military installation near Johnston, Iowa. Contact the author via e-mail (m_hikiji AT yahoo.com) not later than Thurs., Jun. 6, to reserve a seat at the catered event.

For information regarding this and other "All I Could Be" events, as well as a blog written by Hikiji, click here.

A Jump Straight into the BAF

Mother's Day 2012 fell on Sunday, May 13. In 2011, May 13 was a Friday. It was also the day I launched into Afghanistan as an embedded civilian reporter. In doing a little personal archeology this weekend, I came upon this never-before-posted Red Bull Rising blog entry. I thought I'd share it now. File it under "Where Were We One Year Ago ..."

MAY 13, 2011—Having cashed in some 95,000 of my wife's airline miles, it cost me $63 U.S. to get to Dubai.

Further opening the family wallet, it cost another $1,000 for a round-trip ticket straight into Bagram Airfield. A jump into the "BAF."

In my research into civilian routes to Afghanistan, I'd talked to a couple of Midwestern journalists who'd also recently made the Afghan trek. An Ohio TV crew reported they'd almost been escorted off the plane in Kabul, with officials citing their allegedly illegal possession of body armor and helmets. A U.S. State Department rep on the scene had advised not to fight it.

A newspaper reporter buddy had his protective equipment "confiscated" at an Afghan police checkpoint outside of Kabul International Airport (K.I.A.). One of the hard-and-fast rules for embedded media is: You need your body armor and magic helmet to board any military aircraft or ground vehicle. Lucky for my buddy, he was on his way out of the country—transferring from military to civilian transportation, rather than the other way around. Still, it was a sticky-fingered situation. "Not allowed," he was told with the wag of a policeman's finger, as that same policeman began to take the reporter's stockholder-funded gear. The police offered this compromise: "I give back to you when you come back to Afghanistan."

Yeah ... right. Or maybe I can by it back by watching the Taliban Home Shopping Network?

I regard travel like I do baseball—I've never really been a very strong fan of either, but it seems somewhat un-American to say so. For me, however, both activities seem full of questionably prepared foods, unthinkable latrines, uncomfortable seating arrangements, and arcane languages. Plus, I get the sneaking suspicion that the guys with the money make up their own rules. You want me to pay my hard-earned money to subsidize all that?! I think I'll stay home and have a beer. I can make my own nachos.

To extend the sports metaphor a little: In planning my Afghan travel, I've got the problem of transporting $2,500 of personally purchased equipment to my next away game. In fact, it's my own Big Show. My Kelvar stuff is heavy, but still breakable. And it's illegal in a growing number of countries. I buy the wrong ticket, make the wrong move, go through the wrong airport, and it's a potential show-stopper.

When Uncle Sam is your travel agent, everything is easy. You are told what to pack, when to show up, and to wait for the next flight. You are escorted and eased through customs. Nobody steals your stuff. When you go free-agent, however, you get the bum's rush. "Hurry up and wait" turns into "you can't do that here."

Consider this cautionary language from the U.S. State Department:

All US personnel - to avoid violation of Emirati laws by the intentional or accidental transport of any arms or items considered as law enforcement equipment or military gear. UAE airport personnel will x-ray all baggage - checked or carry-on - and cargo shipments, including household goods, both incoming and outgoing. UAE authorities will confiscate any weapons, weapon parts, ammunition, body armor, handcuffs, sensitive electronics, cryptographic devices, and/or other military/police equipment transported to or through a civilian airport. Persons found to be carrying such items will be arrested and face strict criminal penalties, including imprisonment and large monetary fines. One such incident involved one bullet, found in the bag of a traveler who had unknowingly left the item in his bag. [Emphasis added.] This individual was detained by the police and now faces a possible jail sentence and large monetary fine. In other similar incidents, U.S. defense contractors transiting the U.A.E. with weapons were arrested and are now serving jail sentences of several months.

Do I have anything to declare? Why, yes, that I'll do anything to avoid traveling through your country, thank you.

Safety is another factor, although one with ever fewer clear solutions. One of my favorite passages regarding travel to Kabul comes from Lonely Planet:

Flying into Kabul has always been a bit of an adventure. In the 1980s and ’90s, approaching planes had to steeply corkscrew when approaching the airport as an antimissile defence, while as recently as 2006, new arrivals were greeted by the sight of the ‘Ariana Graveyard’, a twisted and shattered junkpile of destroyed airliners. The same year also finally saw the installation of a radar system at the airport.

Poor maintenance has been a worry for Ariana flights, and the UN and many embassies ban their staff from flying with the airline, which has also been barred from EU airspace. Much of the fleet are second-hand planes from Indian Airlines, but these are slowly being replaced. Kam Air uses newer planes and is generally regarded as being better run, but it has Afghanistan’s one recent fatal crash to its name: a flight between Herat and Kabul crashed in February 2005 with the loss of 104 lives. Snowy conditions were blamed.

I'll take "Travel Insights I Won't Tell My Wife for $200," please, Alex?

If you're flying a charter, you can often make up your own rules. One of my more surreal deployment memories? While returning from a deployment to Egypt in 2004, I field-stripped my M-16 rifle so that I could stuff it under my airline seat. The smaller parts went into an air-sickness bag. Waterproofing bonus!

Back when I worked at the Better Magazine Factory, my fellow workaday editors and I would roll our eyes at our snooty editors-in-chief, who were rumoredly too posh to carry-on or check-in their own luggage. Such high-roller-bag behavior might fly at Condé-Nasty New York, but here in River City, Iowa? Allegedly, they'd overnight-express their goods to their next night's destinations.

Still, while the Devil may wear Prada on the plane, however, she never wears Kevlar. I swallowed my Midwestern carry-it-myself pride, and mailed my body armor to a Bagram buddy via the U.S. Postal Service. I flew through Dubai, and flew a chartered 737 directly into Bagram. The name of the outfit--Middle East affiliate of "Diplomat Freight Services"--made me feel like I was about to cuddle up in a romantic cargo bay alongside some ambassador's in-bound stash of Johnnie Walker Blue.

The reality of it turned out to be far more pedestrian: A 737 full of contractors, ex-military, one Middle Western media guy, and other ne'er-do-wells. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

My original itinerary was to fly American Airlines from Des Moines to Chicago, and Chicago to London; then British Airways from London to Dubai. Due to storms over Chicago, however, I was delayed getting out of Des Moines, and rerouted to Dallas-Fort Worth.

When I got to Texas, the next flight to Los Angeles had been cancelled. So I spent the night circling DFW in a tram, launched to Los Angeles in the morning, then made a Los Angeles connection to Dubai via Emirates Airlines. From Los Angeles, it was one excruciating no-hitter of a non-stop flight from Los Angeles to Dubai: Up the West Coast, over Canada and the Arctic Circle, down Eastern Europe. I think we even flew over Iran, but I may have been hallucinating by that point.

The in-flight entertainment on Emirates 218 was exceptional, however, with on-demand video served to each and every seat—even those of us in the nose-bleed section. Over the course of 16 hours or so, I watched a series of recent-vintage movies, including: the Coen Brothers' remake of "True Grit", the unnecessarily bromantic update of "The Green Hornet", and "The King's Speech"

Only in retrospect did I realize that each of these selections involved unexpected heroes: Rooster Cogburn, Britt Reid, and Lionel Logue. A lawman turned drunkard, a newspaper publisher turned "criminal," and a ne'er-do-well thespian turned speech therapist.



For the rest of the trip, I thought myself in characteristically good company.

The Boys Get More Toys

In a Holiday 2011 blog post, I noted that the manufacturer of Matchbox-brand toy cars had produced a design that mimicked the Mine-Resistant Ambush-Protected ("M-RAP") armored vehicles used by U.S. soldiers in Afghanistan and Iraq. The "SWAT Truck" was available in either basic black and friendly Infantry blue. The black one had "SWAT" painted on its sides, while the blue one said "police." Although altered, the design strongly resembled Navistar International Corp.'s MaxxPro.

During a recent dismounted patrol of local toy stores, my 4-year-old son Rain and I noted the Matchbox design has been re-issued, as part of 2012's "MBX Airport" series. Bright fire-engine red, with "Guard Services" and a Grecian helm logo on the side panels, this armored vehicle just screams "relax, dear traveler, and leave the flying to us."

Here's a fun travel tip: If, while preparing to board your next flight to sunny Cancún or Honolulu, you see an MRAP parked next to your aircraft? You should probably consider taking the bus instead.

The back-of-the-card prose on the 2012 Matchbox SWAT truck is even more inscrutable than that of its black-and-blue brethren, which noted selling features such as a "fully armored exterior [that] will crush any obstacle that appears in its path! Time to restore the peace!"

Here's how the red-truck version reads:

Great adventures fly in and out of the Airport every hour! World travelers come and go by vans and taxis. Transporters load exotic high-performance cars for international events in far-off lands. Cargo carriers careen from runways to access roads and the Rescue Crew is always ready to spring into action!

Careening cargo? Exotic cars? What kind of airport is this?!

(Answer: In Rain's world, it's probably an airport that also hosts a swarm of Matchbox "Mission Helicopters," an 1985 design also re-issued in 2012, and painted out in digital (?!) jungle camouflage pattern. They look a little like AH-64 "Apache" helicopters, with shorter tails.)

In the real world, military leaders have reportedly begun speculating what to do with a rag-tag fleet of hard-to-maintain MRAP trucks, given that the latest wars are winding down.

As the Washington Post's Marjorie Censer noted in a March 7, 2012 article, the "MRAP [...] is something of a relic, bought specifically to protect soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan but far too bulky for a future characterized by drones, cyberwarfare, and intelligence and surveillance technology." The trucks each cost between $10,000 to $20,000 to maintain annually.

Plus, maintaining the many different kinds of MRAP trucks is a logistical headache. In a 2011 Defense Logistics Agency (D.L.A.) news article, the organization manages more than 40,000 line items [parts and supplies] for the MRAP and stocks about 25,000 of them, said John Dreska, DLA Land and Maritime MRAP program manager. Dreska heads a team of 120 government employees and contractors whose sole priority is to support repair-parts sustainment for more than 13,000 MRAPs fielded in Afghanistan and about 1,500 used for pre-deployment training in the United States."

Some MRAP trucks could find themselves repurposed by Iraqi or Afghan security forces, or by other allies. It's not unthinkable, however, that some surplus MRAP trucks might eventually show up in U.S. law enforcement, just like Tommy guns and black rifles previously migrated to civilian use.

Still, one wonders if there might be a line drawn in the stateside sand, especially when it comes to Airport rent-a-Spartans and shopping mall cops. Inshallah, even the Big City P.D. won't need to drive around in top-heavy trucks that are designed to take bomb blasts from below.

Note to the city council members everywhere: The citizens of Mayberry R.F.D. do not need to be protected and served by surveillance drones. Or MRAP trucks. Or Blue Thunder.

But, if you ask nicely, Rain will let you play with one of his.

*****

Click here for a YouTube video comparing and contrasting the 2011 Matchbox "SWAT Truck" designs, starting at the 45-second mark.

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.

A Hard Turn at Najil

My reception at Bagram Airfield ("BAF") last week was warm, jovial, and downright overwhelming. Soon after my arrival, the deputy commanding officer snatched me out of the brigade public affairs office, and plunked me down in front of the commander of the Iowa National Guard's 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division (2-34th BCT).

Jet-lagged and time-zoned as I was, I might've have been hallucinating a bit, but there may have even been hugs exchanged. Either way, it was a good vibe.

The brigade command sergeant major came into the office, and took a knee on the hard linoleum floor. Together with the brigade public affairs officer, we discussed my personal "rules of engagement" while traveling around Area of Operations ("A.O.") Red Bulls: Mostly Parwan, Panjshir, and Laghman provinces.

"You've made an investment getting here," says Col. Ben Corell, 2-34th BCT commander. "I think we're invested in getting you back."

That means no overnight stays at Combat Outpost ("COP") X, Y, or Z. That means movement by helicopter and not by ground. While Corell's guidance makes my wife very happy—and I make sure he knows it—I realize that it makes things here more difficult, both for his soldiers and for me.

Thinking back on it, my experience in the box National Training Center (N.T.C.) was ideal training—not only for the terrain and weather conditions, but for the administrative and logistical restrictions as well. Just because you see something nearby on a map, doesn't mean it's easy to get there.

Task Force Ironman—Iowa's 1st Battalion, 133rd Infantry Regiment (1-133rd Inf.)--is currently headquartered in Mehtar Lam, Laghman Province. I'd spent a memorable couple of days with Alpha Company at NTC last September, while the unit conducted a Combined Arms Live-fire Exercise ("CALFEX"). When Task Force Ironman asked what COP I wanted to see while here, I asked to visit Alpha Company again. That required a "hard-turn"—two helicopter flights in one day to the same remote site.

Bottom line: Task Force Ironman moved earth and sky to make it happen.

COP Najil sits at the crux of three valleys. Afghan Security Guards man some of the guard towers and the entry control point, and a company of Afghan National Army soldiers live in a compound adjacent to the Alpha Company quarters. "They are our brothers," says Capt. Matthew Parrino, acting Alpha Company commander. (Capt. Jason Merchant, the Alpha Company commander whom I'd met at NTC, is on a couple of weeks of leave.) Most every operation is conducted "shoulder-to-shoulder."

Bad guys regularly harass the COP from all directions. Attacks range from 4 or 5 shots from a Soviet-made machine gun in the middle of the night, to full-on complex and coordinated efforts. The Red Bull soldiers point out that the bad guys no longer come at them as directly as they did starting in November of last year, when the Iowa unit first moved into position.

The bad guys are now more likely to rely on Improvised Explosive Device (I.E.D.) attacks , trying to stay out of the Red Bulls' reach. On the day that I am there, Parrino and I sit on the roof of the Tactical Operations Center ("TOC"), watching as a team of two Kiowa Warrior helicopters fly north to engage a reported Vehicle-Borne IED (V.B.I.E.D., also called a "VEE-bid").

Living conditions at COP Najil are Spartan, although the Red Bulls have made many improvements during the deployment. "I like to compare it to a camp up in Canada," says acting First Sergeant Tim Fiedler. "Except the fishing around here isn't as good." There's running water--the Red Bulls have increased the COP's water-tank capacity--and a brand-new shower tent. There's a kitchen-in-a-box the soldiers call the "Red Bull Grill," which is one of only two such systems in country.

Meeting up with soldiers and buddies, I keep re-telling the joke about Col. Corell telling me—way back at NTC—that I should look at Afghanistan as a potential article for Better Homes and Gardens magazine.

Latrines, however, are still a little rustic. Urinals are "piss-tubes"--PVC pipes stuck at an angle into the ground. Toilets are even more basic. As an entry-level job, local nationals are hired to burn the feces collected in cut-off 50-gal. drums; the smell over the COP is constant. Fiedler says that one of the Afghan youth working the latrine detail recently offered this observation:

"Americans sh-- too much."

The kid was promoted to a different job.

We Apologize for the Inconvenient

The dining facility lunch lady is saying something in sign language to me. She points to the Camelbak I'm wearing, then folds her hands as if in prayer. She repeats the gestures a couple of times, while saying in English: "No backpacks ... please!" The request is routine, but I find the delivery a little unnerving. I begin to suspect that the lunch lady was bothered by something other than my personal hydration system.

Later, I ask the media liaison whether there is indeed a no-backpack rule, and whether it has anything to do with the suicide bomber threat.

"No," he says. "Just part of the protocol."

Like any communal activity, life on a Forward Operating Base ("FOB") is chockfull of rules. Some of them are unwritten. Others are posted on nearly every available surface. The no-backpack rule? Turns out it was hidden in plain sight, amongst a shuffle of other notices about meal times, proper footwear, and people selling things they no longer need.

Waiting outside the dining facility prior to an evening meal, I happen upon a flag display. Each previous U.S. Army rotation on this FOB has commissioned a marble placard with the unit's emblem, and the name of its commander and command sergeant major. The unit markers are arranged beneath flag pole. Because it offers a quick summary of those units who had come before, I take some snapshots of the display.

Suddenly, a first sergeant appears. We'd worked together for a couple of years while I was in uniform, and he has a familiar smirk on his face. He asks, "What are you taking pictures of?" I point at the display.

"Base Ops just called about some guy who was taking pictures and measuring out distances to the dining facility," he tells me. (There's a big camera in the sky that Big Brother Base Ops uses to keep tabs on things.) I roll my eyes. "Hey," he says, "at least they're paying attention."

Here's a selection of signs posted on various FOBs here in Afghanistan. Some seem to have lost something in translation, or to be overly specific--particularly given illiteracy rates in these parts:

- "No dip or urine bottles." If you don't know what these are, don't ask.

- "Do not defecate in the showers. If there continues to be an issue with defecating in the showers they will be closed." Note: This sign appears in both English and local languages.

- "No dumping, washing, rinsing of coffee, tea, etc.--and pick up your cigarette butts!" This sign is posted on a tree.

- "If you hear 'Rampage' or 'Alamo' over the loudspeakers--STAY PUT! We will come get you." If they say "Oxenfree," you apparently have to find them.

- "Afghan Style Toilet." Note: This sign appears in English only. Which may explain why, on one particular day, the floor of my 'U.S. Style Toilet' is so ... messy.

- "Military personnel are authorized two (2) take-out Clam Shell Trays. NO CIVILIAN is authorized take-out meals." Given the way it's capitalized, I'm pretty sure some military person really wanted to make "Clam Shell Trays" an acronym.

- "Disinfected water. Not for drinking."

- "IAW ["In Accordance With"] Ventcom Circular 40-1 and with the approval of CENTCOM, all shell eggs must be cooked thoroughly. Food service personnel are not allowed to cook or serve "over-easy," "over-medium," "over-light," or "sunny-side up" eggs. Eggs will be cooked or served "scrambled," "fried-hard," or as an "omelet" only." What's with all the underlines?
- "Bottom line: Be alert. Know what sector you are in. Follow your unit's plan. Stay alive!!!!" Four exclamation points? They must be serious!!!!

- "Machine out of order. We apologize for the inconvenient."

The Assistant Deputy Mayor, Press Agent, and Poet-Laureate of FOB King

Capt. Sean Taylor of the 334th Brigade Support Battalion (334th B.S.B.) has been filing short dispatches with the Ames (Iowa) Tribune starting prior to the July mobilization of the 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division. His newsprint missives are often nearly poetic in nature, providing first a snapshot of soldierly life, then unfolding to reveal a deeper emotional truth.

"It's pretty neat," he says, grinning a low-key grin. "The kids look for my picture in the paper every day. Sometimes, they get out the Silly Putty."

Taylor is a professor of psychology and sociology at the Des Moines Area Community College's Boone, Iowa, campus. He joined the Iowa Army National Guard two days prior to his thirty-sixth birthday, inspired to serve by the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. He and his wife Shannon have five children, ranging in ages from 9 to 15. (For a July 13, 2010 Ames Tribune feature profiling the Taylor family, click here.)

Taylor is now an Army medical services officer--a hospital administrator of sorts--and performs the additional duty of unit public affairs representative ("UPAR," pronounced "yoo-pawr"). Because embedded media hitchhiked around the National Training Center battlefield via logistical convoys last September--and because the 334th BSB was located at the brigade's logistical hub of Forward Operating Base ("FOB") King--it often became Taylor's responsibility to arrange overnight accommodations. In other words, add "concierge," "tour guide," and "inn-keeper" to the list of Taylor's many responsibilities.

"People don't understand that we're looking forward to going to Afghanistan," a sleep-deprived Taylor told one group of visiting media in late September, before shuffling and shuttling us off to other UPARs, on other FOBs. "In Afghanistan, I'll have regular hours. I'll be able to work out every day. I might even have Internet in my own room."

It was from that perspective that Taylor wrote in mid-October:

Many of you have been following the Iowa National Guard as we train at the National Training Center in Fort Irwin, Calif. The embedded reporters have scrambled to find that one story that will strike a nerve or tug at your heartstrings.

I watched as the news crews prepared stories about the intense desert heat, the inedible food rations, the lack of sleep, the mothers and fathers longing for their kids back home, the simulated combat and the basic overall struggles associated with one of the most demanding training environments the U.S. Army has to offer. And, of course, the loneliness of the families back home unable to talk to their soldiers over the phone or Internet.

I will not lie, this training takes its toll. You function on little to no sleep. You are constantly challenged to go beyond your perceived capabilities. You get frustrated, nervous and angry. You hate the heat, the dust and the wind. And with all the focus on the negative, you tend to ignore the beauty hidden in the desert’s desolation. But if you take a moment to open your eyes, take a breath and just stand still, the desert’s majesty engulfs you.

See what I mean? Good stuff!

Here's a list of Taylor's past essays in the Ames Tribune. Keep an eye out for his future observations. And the Silly Putty? Fun for the whole family!

Nov. 26, 2010: "Happy Thanksgiving from Bagram Air Field, Afghanistan"

Nov. 9, 2010: "Four-day pass provides special moments for soldiers"

Nov. 2, 2010: "Anxiously awaiting deployment and the needle"

Oct. 12, 2010: "My Mojave: Finding peace, comfort in a scenic desert"

Sept. 17, 2010: "I don’t want to be a soldier today"

Sept. 15, 2010: "Trucking the Guard across America’s train tracks"

*****

Here are some other recent Iowa media reports regarding the 2-34th BCT deployment to Afghanistan:

Ames (Iowa) Tribune, Nov. 24, 2010: "Holidays highlight absence of deployed military parents"

KCRG-TV9/Cedar Rapids Gazette, Nov. 26, 2010: "Families, soldiers feel separation at holidays" (Expanded text profile of Seydel and Reilly families)

KCRG-TV9/Cedar Rapids Gazette, Nov. 26, 2010: "Away from Home for the Holidays: The Seydel Family" (Video and text)

KCRG-TV9/Cedar Rapids Gazette, Nov. 24, 2010: "Student Soldiers Earn Degrees While Deployed" (Video and text)

Trucking and Rucking to FOB Seattle

FORT IRWIN, Calif., Sept. 28--Hitching a ride on a logistical package ("LOGPAC") is one-part hitch-hiking, and one-part Transportation Security Agency (T.S.A.) airport security rules, without the potential promise of a happy-goodtime pat-down.

If a convoy is slated to depart at 1000 hours, you have to be present for safety, intelligence, and mission briefings at least 60 minutes prior. Remember to bring all your gear and baggage. There are also rehearsals--practicing how to egress the vehicle if hit by an Improvised Explosive Device (I.E.D.), how to egress the vehicle if it rolls over, how to egress the vehicle in the unlikely event of a water landing. (In the Army, we like to egress stuff. Except we don't call it that.)

And inspections--checking to see if you're wearing the proper personal protective gear, such as eye-protection, gloves, and helmet.

Of course, it pays to show up at least 60 minutes prior to all that, because you need to find out who you're hitching with, introduce yourself, and apologize for carrying so much gear. Bottom line: It's the standard Army hurry-up-and-wait, but with a huge side-helping of you're-doing-me-a-huge-favor-but-please-don't-make-me-beg.

This morning, I've packed up my contraband computer kit and my small rucksack. I have a scalding cup of hot coffee from the caterer's Big Milkshake Truck. I am kicking back watching the sunrise with my feet pointed uphill and toward the sun. This particular LOGPAC is first going to travel northeast to Forward Operating Base ("FOB") Seattle, temporary home of my alma mater, the 1st Battalion, 133rd Infantry Regiment (1/133rd Inf.).

After dropping off supplies at FOB Seattle, the convoy will return here to the FOB King logistics base. Then, it will travel southeast to FOB Dallas, temporary home to the 1st Battalion, 168th Infantry Regiment (1/168th Inf.). To cover more ground, our little embedded media circus is going to split up, half of us going with each of the infantry units.

A grumpy platoon sergeant comes over and tells me to put my cover on--I am not properly wearing my proper Army hat. "It's bugging my troops and it's bugging me," he tells me. I am in too good a mood to protest.

In the game of convoy roulette, I luck out by getting placed into an armored vehicle with a bunch of fellow merry jokesters. "I'm Brigadier Specialist Edwards," says one Spc. Matt Edwards, by way of introduction. He's traveling in the right-hand front seat of this four-seater Humvee. "The Department of Defense has designated this as a non-smoking Humvee. Please return your tray tables to the full upright position, and enjoy the crash." Obviously, these are my kind of soldiers.

The rest of the crew introduces themselves. In addition to the field marshal, there's Sgt. Aaron Phelps and there's Pfc. Kodi Robinson. They're weapons maintainers from Bravo Company, 334th Brigade Support Battalion (334th B.S.B.). "We're in armaments," says Phelps. "People give their broken weapons to the unit armorers, who usually f--- it up even more. Then, they give it to us."

Usually, the broken equipment is evacuated to the BSB, but the maintainers can also travel along with the LOGPAC as a "maintenance contact team," capable of performing some checks and services on site. Today, however, they're going along for the ride. Or, rather, they're going along in order to give the media a ride. (And it's much appreciated, thank you. Sure beats walking.)

"It's hard to stay awake sometimes, says Robinson. "It's the bumpiness of the road, the dust, the slow speed. I was slamming coffee last time, trying to stay awake."

Also along for the ride elsewhere in the convoy is Spc. Brian Willis, who is returning for duty with the 1/133rd Inf. following a medical appointment. When we get to FOB Seattle, he's got all his gear--ruck sack, assault pack, Army cot--strapped to his back. He good-naturedly refuses all offers of assistance or transportation, and trudges down the hill toward the camp to report in.

It's good to be home.

More Notes from a Logistical Battlefield

Continued from yesterday's blog post ...

FORT IRWIN, Calif., late September--As the desert home of 334th Brigade Support Battalion (B.S.B.), Forward Operating Base ("FOB") King is the logistical hub of the 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division's operations. In addition to a headquarters company, 334th BSB comprises:

• Alpha Company (Transportation), which provides transportation and distribution of food and fuel.

• Bravo Company (Maintenance), which provides higher-level repair of vehicles and equipment.

• Charlie Company (Medical), which provides preventive and emergent medical care, including behavioral and dental health, and physical therapy services. Known informally as "Charlie-Med," this unit provides care for soldiers who can be fixed within approximately 72 hours. Soldiers requiring care in excess of 72 hours are typically evacuated to higher levels.

• Echo, Foxtrot, and Golf Companies of 334th BSB are "Forward Support Companies" (F.S.C.), and are each directly attached to maneuver units--infantry and cavalry--where they provide transportation, maintenance, and other support.

Logistics soldiers at FOB King say they're being delayed in moving food around the battlefield. Rations aren't arriving broken out into components, and in the headcount numbers required for each FOB. That means the BSB soldiers are resorting and repacking, rather than simply transferring goods between trucks. Meanwhile, their warfighter brothers continually complain that dinner isn't always on the table right when they get home. The loyal loggies take their very jobs seriously, and think the grumbling a little hard to stomach.

The motto of the 334th BSB is "Support the Attack"--a reference to the 34th Division's motto of "Attack! Attack! Attack!" In an unscientific survey, I find soldiers across FOB King armed with a new joke-of-the-day. Apparently, they volunteer, someone put out a memo that the new Red Bull motto is to be "Attack the Support!"

*****

Staff Sgt. Daniel Bitner is the leader of gun platoon, Alpha Company (Transportation), 334th BSB. It's only training, and they're already so constantly on the move that he's concerned about the potential pace in Afghanistan. "We got eight gun trucks, four trucks in each convoy," he says. "Talking with the 86th [the Vermont BCT they're replacing], they're doing two convoys per a day--one day, one night. If we do that, no one will get a day off."

Back in Iowa, Bitner helps run the Camp Dodge facility that refuels military vehicles. He's familiar with how logistics soldiers can cop an attitude when confronted with unappreciative customers. "If you need fuel at the last minute, I'll do stunts for you," he says. "But if you come in with attitude, I don't need you."

"You see it at [Annual Trainings] and stuff," he says. "Guys in the Cav or the Infantry will roll through with the attitude of 'you're just a fueler,'" says Bitner. "Hey, if you piss me off as a fueler, I'll just tell you to move out. I don't know whether you're topped off or not. Hope you've got a Jerrycan!"

*****

Command Sgt. Maj. Willie Adams is an infantry soldier thrown into the logistics pool earlier this year, when he took the job as top-ranking non-commissioned officer in the 334th BSB. He's proud of his soldiers' professionalism and attitude, and tells them not to allow themselves to be maneuvered into bad moods.

"When I came into this battalion, I flat-out told soldiers that I didn't know logistics. I don't know their operation, and I didn't know their equipment," he says. "I told them not to be surprised when the old sergeant major pulled an E-5 [a junior sergeant] over to ask, 'What does this piece of equipment do?'"

"At the same time, I told them not to listen to the infantry guys about how hooah an 11-Bravo [the occupational code for infantryman] is: 'I could make any one of you 11-Bravo, but I couldn't teach just any 11-Bravo how to run an [Load Handling System], or a fuel truck, or any of those things. Those things take skills.'"

*****

I promised you a pirate story from the desert. Here it is:

Fast-forward to around the beginning of the second week in The Box. An infantry battalion had repeatedly called for more Meals, Ready to Eat (M.R.E.), finding that it had burned through three days of rations in one day. The shortage apparently occurred when the unit changed to three-MRE-a-day ration cycle, rather than MRE at lunch only, with a "hot" at breakfast and dinner.

It wanted more, and wouldn't take "no" for an answer.

The 334th BSB repeatedly told them the MRE cupboard was bare. There was no magic stockpile of MRE. And there is no "fast food" in the desert--supplies take days to order, and more to distribute. An Army marches on its stomach, which is why it pays to think ahead.

The story goes that the infantry battalion dispatched a field-grade officer along with a small convoy--a raiding party, if you will--to FOB King for the purpose of liberating rations. "It was as if they pulled alongside our FOB, raised the Jolly Roger, and demanded our booty," says Lt. Col. John Perkins, 334th BSB commander. He laughs about it now, but he uses the story to reiterate that logistics is deadly serious business.

Still, you've got to admit, "M.R.E." is a lot of fun to say in pirate-brogue. Put the emphasis on the "Arrr" ...

Notes from a Logistical Battlefield

FORT IRWIN, Calif., late September--An Army fights on its stomach. Amateurs talk tactics, and professionals talk logistics. The first three rules of success at the National Training Center are: "Logistics, Logistics, Logistics."

All that is why, in a few days, Forward Operating Base ("FOB") King will be attacked by pirates. Pirates seeking Meals, Ready-to-Eat (M.R.E.). I am not making this up.

Back at FOB Denver, the current headquarters for the 2-34th Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division (2-34th BCT), Warrant Officer Shawn Kiene has one of the few legal cellphones out here in "The Box." As the acting contract officer for the brigade, he uses the lifeline to coordinate real-world essentials like scheduling service of hundreds of portable chemical toilets that dot the our part of the Mojave desert.

A former U.S. Navy sailor and graduate of the Culinary Institute of America (C.I.A.), Kiene was executive chef at a couple of hotels before going to work in the wholesale food distribution business.

"After I got to corporate, I thought I'd come back to the military and teach some cooks," he says. "'Even if it's sh--,' I thought, 'I can teach people to make it into something great.'"

"Instead, I show up and get put in charge of sh--ters," he laughs. "I was supposed to be at the other end of this business!"

As a food service expert, Kiene volunteered to go back to the rear to help out the active-duty unit responsible for bringing supplies from Fort Irwin (called "FOB Warrior" in scenario play) into The Box. "They've got some lieutenant there who's a good rigger, knows how to move stuff, but doesn't know food service. Rations breaks aren't going out quite right."

*****

Hanging out in rear rows of the 2-34th BCT's Tactical Operations Center ("TOC"), 1st Lt. Michael Wagner is holding court with some loggies. He's a quartermaster officer, but currently assigned from his infantry battalion as a liaison to the brigade. Wagner lives, breathes, and eats logistics. He tells this anecdote, which sounds like a routine from "Abbott and Costello meet the Frankenstein Logistics Monster":

"My unit wanted to establish this radio retrans site," he says. "Fifty guys are protecting this site--my unit did not want this site overrun. I asked them how they were going to supply the site."

"'LOGPAC,' they said." The term "LOGPAC" stands for "Logistics Package"--a supply convoy.

"'How are you going to get water,' I asked."

"'LOGPAC,' they said."

"I could see they weren't getting it. 'OK,' I said, 'let's break that down: What're you going to transport water in?'" Their answer: 5-gallon Jerrycans. "OK, one soldier in an arid environment consumes 4 to 5 liters of water per day. That means you'll need about 1.5 gallons of water per soldier, per day. If LOGPAC happens every other day, that means you'll need two jerry cans per soldier, one to keep and one to exchange. That means 100 Jerrycans. Now, how are you going to supply the site?"

They try again: "Water buffalo?" A water buffalo is a tank-trailer that holds more than 500 gallons of water.

"'OK, how are you going to re-fill the water buffalo?'"

"'Jerrycans?'"

"'You're going to refill a water buffalo with a 100 Jerrycans, requiring a team of two or three guys to lift each can up to the tank to pour it in, and then you've got to worry about sanitizing the water because how many people have come into contact with it?!'"

At this point, I don't know whether to laugh or cry: Who's on first? What's on second?

*****

To be continued in tomorrow's Red Bull Rising post ...

The Brotherhood of the Traveling Flat Minuteman

There's a 21st Century tradition in the Army National Guard of mounting life-sized photographic likenesses of deployed soldiers to cardboard, foamboard, or corrugated plastic. They're called "Flat Daddies" (yes, there are "Flat Mommies," too) and some of them really get around: Family reunions, vacations, dance recitals, birthday parties.

There are a lot of twists and turns in the following story, but they all center on what might be billed as the "Granddaddy of All Flat Daddies."

Danny Coggins is president of Gulf States Manufacturers, fabricators of metal buildings systems. When business slowed a year or two back, he challenged his employees to come up with a patriotic project to spruce up the exterior of their Starkville, Miss., plant.

"They told me, 'The only thing we know is steel.' And I said, 'Well, then, that's the language we'll use.'"

A couple of great stories result. First, the workers create a work of art outside the business, one that includes minutemen and the seals of each U.S. service branch. "It's pretty amazing," Coggins says. "For us to do this kind of detail work is a little bit like asking a framing carpenter to do your cabinets. Our guys figured it out."

Then, a little girl starts stopping by the plant to add some flowers to the display. Goggins zaps the girl's grade-school teacher an e-mail. "I thought Gracieann was pretty special, but even more special was a teacher who teaches patriotism," Coggins says. The e-mail travels around the Internet a couple of times, and, by the time that Coggins gets a chance to introduce himself, she's already fielding media inquiries.

Then, a general officer at Camp Shelby phoned, and asked if he could make the 3-hour drive up from the Hattiesburg area. "We're a 40-year-old business, and we're not a pretty place," says Coggins. "Suddenly, we've got a general coming to visit."

While preparing this summer for a deployment to Afghanistan, soldiers of the Iowa National Guard's 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division (2-34th BCT) first noticed the 6-foot-tall steel minuteman standing outside Paxton Hall at Camp Shelby, Miss. Turns out, that minuteman is only one of some 70 that were subsequently installed throughout the State of Mississippi. You know, after that general visited.

The 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division has a well-established history with Camp Shelby. In World War II, members of the celebrated Japanese-American 442nd Regimental Combat Team (R.C.T.) trained there. The unit would later fight alongside the Red Bull in the mountains of Italy.

While at Camp Shelby prior to a 2005 deployment to Iraq, members of the division's 1st Brigade Combat Team (1-34th BCT) re-created a "living patch" photograph that evoked the division's World War I origins at Camp Cody, N.M. The 1-34th BCT included two units that are now deployed with the 2-34th BCT: Iowa's 1st Battalion, 133rd Infantry Regiment (1/133 Inf.); and Nebraska's 1st Squadron, 134th Cavalry Regiment (1/134th Cav.).

Although he's proud of his employees' efforts, Coggins repeatedly stresses that Gulf States Manufacturers is not in the business of making or selling 6-foot-tall flat minutemen. The "statues" don't have a brand or company name on them. Rather, they say "Made in the U.S.A." and "God Bless America." They're made out of 100-percent U.S. steel, by the way.

There are, however, 8-inch-tall steel replicas of the Gulf States minuteman for sale at the Mississippi Armed Services Museum, also on Camp Shelby. Gulf States Manufacturers donates them to the Mississippi Chapter of the American Gold Star Mothers, so that the chapter can raise a little money.

Gold Star Mothers have lost a child in service to his or her country. There's a conference room at Gulf States Manufacturers designated for Gold Star Mothers' use: For meetings, for counseling classes, for grief sessions--whatever they need, whenever they need it.

The bottom line to all this? Gulf States Manufacturers is a group of creative, patriotic people who have repeatedly gone the extra mile for troops and their families.

Now, I told you all that in order to tell you another one ...

In addition to many other fine attributes, Coggins is also a former combat engineer. He was once even a member of the Iowa National Guard's 224th Engineer Battalion--"Iowa's Engineers"--when he lived in Mount Pleasant, Iowa. When Coggins and his buddies found out the Red Bull was once again on the move through Mississippi, he saw another opportunity to deliver more Gulf States steel on target.

Retired Col. John "Jack" Wallace, chairman of the Mississippi Employer Support to the Guard and Reserve (E.S.G.R.), personally delivered to Camp Shelby one of the 6-foot steel minutemen to the Iowa National Guard's 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division (2-34th BCT). Iowa's Lt. Col. John Perkins, commander of the 334th Brigade Support Battalion (334th B.S.B.), accepted the minuteman on behalf of the brigade. There's talk that the minuteman will eventually reside at Iowa's own Gold Star Museum, Camp Dodge, Iowa.

But the minuteman isn't coming home to Iowa--at least, not right away.

The 334th BSB includes soldiers who are logisticians and maintainers. You want to move or improve something, you go to the BSB. The battalion's motto? "Support the Attack!"

In less than a day, the metal-heads in the 334th BSB figured out how to mount the 100-pound minuteman statue on a portable stand. The Red Bull is shipping out to Afghanistan this month, and so is the steel minuteman.

"Attack!"

There are a couple of lessons I take from all this:

If you are business owner, manager, or employee, you can help your organization to think beyond flag-displays, free lunches, and military-discounts. Look for unique ways that you put your own stamp on ways to celebrate, remember, and help people. Look for the low-cost, the meaningful, the win-win. (A "Gold Star Mothers" conference room? Genius!)

If you are a National Guard soldier or spouse employed by a business that supports you and your family's service, you can nominate that organization for recognition by the Department of Defense's ESGR program. Click here, fill out the form, and hit "send"--it takes less than 5 minutes!

And, if you are a Red Bull soldier serving in Afghanistan, and you come across a certain Flat Minuteman, tell him Danny, Jack, and Sherpa say "hi." We look forward to your stories.

CAMP SHELBY, Mississippi – Retired Col. Jack Wallace, chairman of the Mississippi Employer Support of the Guard and Reserve (ESGR), presents Lt. Col. John Perkins, commander of the 334 Brigade Support Battalion of the 2-34th Brigade Combat Team, with a 6-foot tall “Steel Minuteman.” The steel minuteman statue is a gift from Danny Coggins, president of Gulf State Manufacturers, Starkville, MS. Coggins is a former member of both the Iowa (224th Engineer Battalion) and Mississippi National Guard. The statue will accompany the 2-34th BCT during the year long deployment to Afghanistan. More than 3,200 Iowa and Nebraska National Guard soldiers from the 2-34th BCT will deploy later this fall to Afghanistan in support of Operation Enduring Freedom. (Photo by Capt. Adrian Sean Taylor, HHC 334th BSB)