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Yesterday, I took a couple of my Project Engineers and conducted quality assurance (QA) visits at a few ongoing projects. The first stop on our trip was in the vicinity of Makhmur, a village southeast of Mosul. In this village, we are working on two drinking water treatment plants (DWTPs) that will provide clean drinking water to 22 different villages with a total population of about 44,000 people. Once again, the drive to the site was quite an experience. We did a bit of off-road travel. This makes driving much safer with regard to IEDs. However, many of the wadis are not on our maps. So we were forced to backtrack numerous times to find crossing points.

When we finally hit the ground in Makhmur at the first DWTP, the Project Engineers and I went about conducting our QA inspections. Being the OIC and Area Engineer, I’m supposed to know what to look for at these sites. Sometimes I get caught up in all of the hype and forget that I’m really a map-maker (according to Mugs). Although I prefer to think of myself as a Geospatial Engineer. Unfortunately, I don’t have Mugs here to help me stay humble. I guess I got a little carried away on this visit and decided to share my wealth of construction expertise with Don, the Project Engineer for this site.

By the expression on his face, it doesn’t appear that Don is as impressed with what I’m saying as I am!

Over the last 5 years, I have been a bit removed from the effects of the increased security measures that have been implemented throughout the United States. The year after 9/11, I and the children moved to Minnesota to live with my parents while Dale was in Korea. When we moved to Minnesota, Abby wanted to know two things. 1. Do all Grandmas and Grandpas live at the end of dirt roads? 2. Why are all the people who eat at Culvers fat? So, I explained to her the fundamental principles of life in the Midwest. We then moved to Hawaii and were together as a family again. Hawaii may be a US state, but it is very different then the rest of the US and we soon learned why Hawaiians say “lucky you live Hawaii”. From there, we were off to Australia which is removed from the rest of the world by miles and miles. If we didn’t speak and pretended we were Aussies, the world looked at us fondly. At the end of Dale’s Australia assignment, we flew back to the US and the security situation becomes evident quite quickly. Watching Zeke, who is 3, get patted down because we were traveling on one way tickets was one part amusing and another part unnerving. We traveled into DC to watch the 4th of July fireworks and had to go through security checkpoints to sit on a blanket on the mall. What took me most by surprise, however, was the elaborate security procedures at the kids school. These procedures were put into place to counter the violent events that have occurred at campuses throughout the US. All the cars must line up and proceed through a school drop off zone where the teachers escort the children from the cars. When it is time for school to start, the children are brought into the building and the doors are locked. Those inside can get out quickly, but anyone attempting to enter must be buzzed in. In the afternoon, the children are brought outside and loaded into there cars at a loading zone area. You are issued a name sign which you must display. I was all impressed with myself when I actually laminated or as Abby termed it, lamented, my name sign. I just knew that if I didn’t laminate it, it would get spilled on, ripped, dropped in a mud puddle or thrown away by Josiah (who this morning threw away his school water bottle when he threw out the rubbish in his lunch box). My pride in my laminated sign only lasted a day, because I saw another mother who not only laminated her sign, but she also cut it down to size, clipped it to a child’s clothes hanger and hung it from her rear view mirror. I just can’t compete with the Martha’s of the world. I don’t know why I even try. If anyone else is picking up your children, they must be on an authorized pickup list and their ID will be checked. The driving pattern for all of this changes depending on if it’s drop off or pickup, good weather day or bad weather day. Americans love drive thrus, but I never thought I’d find a drive thru to pick up my children. I do find parts of this amusing, but the necessity for it makes me sad. Today is September 11th and I feel a tremendous grief once again for the family and friends who lost those they loved six years ago. We were living in New York during the September 11th attacks, approximately 1 1/2 hours north of NYC. I can still remember clearly the overwhelming fear I felt watching the towers collapse: fear for my husband, fear for my children, fear for myself, and fear for my country. I also recall the shock I felt when I realized that there were people in the world who hated me simply because I was an American. So, today I am reminded and I pray that “the God of peace will be with you”.

When my household goods arrive, there is a tremendous push to get things put away, flatten boxes and discard packing materials. Inevitably, at some point, I run out of energy and can not face another decision about where to put something away. So, piles to trip over sit around in various rooms. One pile that I had been unwilling to face was a giant pile of shoes on my bedroom floor. Upon seeing it, Josiah asked me, “Why do you have so many shoes?”. I told him to look carefully at the pile and rephrase the question, to which he replied, “Why does Dad have so many shoes?” As with the coffee cups, the sheer number of shoes, boots, and sandals that Dale owns can overwhelm any closet. He has 17 pairs. This is after I made him cull his shoes prior to leaving Australia. I told him Josiah’s question about his shoe pile to which he replied that the Army had issued him three pair of boots to go along with the ones he wore to Fort Benning. He also purchased new running shoes in Iraq. I know it could be much worse. My parents neighbor moved out of his house after living there for 30 years. He had 32 coats. His children tried to convince him that he did not need 32 coats, or for that matter 3 anvils. 3 anvils! I can’t imagine living with someone who keeps 3 anvils in the unlikely event that he might need them some day. This ridiculous scene next door has inspired my Mother to clean out her basement and give away all the strange gifts I gave her from my various travels. She asked my (she who throws everything out) permission and I told her to toss it all except for the saber which she can give back to me. You never know when you might need a saber. Probably as often as you need an anvil. She loaded it all up in the car for the Goodwill, but I’m sure she still feels guilty about giving away useless items that have been sitting in the basement for 17 years. Dale’s pile of shoes will be unused for the next 11 months, but they are not useless. They are a constant reminder of how desperately I want him to return safely so I can berate him in person about the number of shoes he owns. He can’t wear them now, however, for he is far far away. When I tell Zeke that Daddy is far far away, he replies “Zeke go far far away!” I wish we could, I really wish we could.

Just to prove Mugs right, again, here’s a picture of my new travel mug.

Mugs reminded me last night that I’ve neglected to share with everyone the details of my travel from Kuwait to Iraq. In a previous post, I mentioned spending some time in Ali Al Salem in Kuwait. Before I arrived in Kuwait, I didn’t know how much time I would spend there before moving on to Iraq. Turns out, I spent less than 24 hours in Kuwait. I arrived at AAS at 0400, slept until lunch, explored the tent city for half a day, then flew out to Iraq at 0100 the next morning.

The military takes every appropriate action to protect its assets (personnel and equipment) from losses due to hostile actions. The majority of flights in and around Iraq take place in the middle of the night to avoid terrorist activity. Additionally, the flights are flown in such a manner so that the aircraft is not greatly exposed to enemy fires. As mentioned in the title, I flew on a C-130. This is the workhorse for the Air Force’s tactical airlift mission. The seating accommodations are cargo nets running along the sides and the middle of the plane. The windows are blacked-out, and of course, there are no in-flight meals or entertainment! Needless to say, it’s not a very comfortable ride. Most legs (non-Airborne qualified personnel) out there question why people want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. The answer is that it’s so uncomfortable in the airplane that after a couple of hours, you’ll do anything to get out.

Our flight from AAS this morning included a quick stop in Balad before continuing on to Mosul. It was easy to tell when we began our approach to Balad because it felt like the pilot pushed the nose of the aircraft down as sharply as he could without crashing. Then just for fun, he threw in numerous hard bank turns in either direction. After a couple minutes of this, I started to feel a little queasy and broke out in a cold sweat. Sitting a couple people away from me was an airman who was going on to Q-West, the stop after Mosul. At this time, he pulled an air-sickness bag from his pocket and proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach into the bag. Fortunately for me, I felt the wheels touch down about a minute later. The total flight time to Balad was a little over one hour. After touching down, the crew opened the tailgate for those stopping in Balad to unload. The pilot kept the engines running so that we could take off as soon as possible.

The take-off from Balad was just as fun as the landing. Luckily, I was a little more prepared for it this time. However, I was unable to locate an air-sickness bag for myself, so I practiced a lot of deep breathing exercises! The 20 minute flight to Mosul was over too quickly when we began our descent. My stomach did not have enough time to recover from all of the earlier trauma. Once again, the airman utilized his personal air-sickness bag, while I began my deep breathing exercises. As before, I broke out in a cold sweat. It seemed that the descent into Mosul took much longer and was much more dramatic than the landing in Balad, but I hung on and barely made it again.

I stumbled off the tailgate with the 3 other individuals stopping in Mosul. Once inside the military terminal, I discovered that there was no one waiting for me. When I called the office number, it was very evident that I had woken Master Sergeant (MSG) Kaseman up from a deep sleep. MSG Kaseman is the NCOIC of the MAO. When I told him I was sitting at the airfield waiting to be picked up, he commented that they weren’t expecting me for a couple more days. Gotta love Army planning!

So there you have it. I can’t even look at those rides at the fair that spin around without getting sick!