Well, here we are again...

David is on his way to Iraq again -- his third trip in 11 years along in addition to a deployment to Afghanistan -- this time for about nine months.

I should be used to his "business trips," as he calls them, but I never am.

And this time, things are different; he has Alex, his 16-month-old son, who is going to miss Daddy very much. We're all going to miss his Daddy very much -- and I suspect Daddy is going to miss Alex a whole lot.

We'll do our best to help Cindy as grandparents, visiting Watertown, NY (where David is based) and we'll try very hard not to drive her crazy at the same time. She's my hero; she has the care of a toddler and a full-time job alone.

David has reassured us that he'll be in a safe location in Army headquarters in Baghdad, away from fighting and bombs. So far, he's been lucky on his deployments -- no injuries, mental or physical. This assignment is good for his career path as an officer.

I just don't know why he can't be deployed to Belgium or Germany or Washington, DC.

But then no place is safe anymore, is it?

NPR report on David's unit-May 30

Amy Walters/NPR The body of Afghan soldier Burhan Muddin is carried to an ambulance in eastern Afghanistan's Ghazni province. He was shot while on guard duty at an Afghan army outpost near the U.S. base. He was brought to the Americans for medical treatment, but U.S. forces were unable to save him. text size A A A May 30, 2012 Several thousand soldiers from the 82nd Airborne Division are taking part in what is being called the last major combat offensive of the Afghan War. Their task is to clear Ghazni province in eastern Afghanistan, a Taliban stronghold and a key prize because it straddles the major roads to Kabul and the insurgent supply routes into Pakistan. But the American troops are challenged by a stubborn enemy and a short time to finish the job. The first casualty happened before the mission even started: An Afghan army soldier, Burhan Muddin, was standing watch at his combat outpost when a Taliban gunman slipped out of a crowd and opened fire. A single bullet pierced the Afghan soldier's chest. Three Afghan soldiers rushed him to a nearby American base, then struggled to carry him into a medical station. Doctors and nurses worked furiously but couldn't save him. Muddin was just 25. His body was carefully wrapped in a white sheet and placed in an ambulance. His fellow soldiers embraced the Americans and wept. Hours later, in the dead of night, some of the same soldiers were ready for the mission: an assault — along with American troops — on a village in Ghazni province. A Taliban stronghold, Bagi Kheyl is just 10 minutes away from their post by helicopter. A long line of soldiers from the Afghan National Army, or ANA, bobs along in the pitch black. The occasional flashlight illuminates their dark eyes and bearded faces. Credit: Alyson Hurt/NPR They're eager to avenge their friend. "If I get any bad guy over there, I will kill him. Because they killed one of our guys," says one. Key To Taliban Supply Routes But it's about more than revenge: The Taliban hold sway in Ghazni province. They've killed dozens of Afghan troops. The Taliban lob mortars and rockets into the small American outposts. They intimidate the people in villages like Bagi Kheyl. Just before getting on his helicopter for the night mission, Capt. Jared Larpenteur, Delta Company commander, stood in front of a map and described the challenge posed by the Taliban. "They're coming from Pakistan and [Afghanistan's] Paktika province with their men, weapons and equipment across the pass. And there's a lot of safe havens in here that they're using to stage and move their logistical supplies north and south," he explains. Highway 1, the country's only main road, travels north to Kabul and south to Kandahar. Ghazni is crucial because it straddles the Taliban's supply lines. But when the Americans sent thousands more troops to Afghanistan, they didn't come to the area — until now. Before the Americans arrived just a couple of months ago, a Polish brigade handled security there. But the Poles, says Larpenteur, only served as something of a highway patrol. "The Polish mostly when they were here stayed on Highway 1 and never really got off Highway 1 into the villages at all. The villages haven't seen any type of ANA or U.S. forces in over five years," he says. "We went to one village out here, and they thought we were Russians." It's in these villages that the Taliban stockpile their weapons and bomb-making materials. Each time Larpenteur and his men head out, they are met with gunfire or come across roadside bombs. EnlargeAmy Walters/NPR Bagi Kheyl, in the eastern province of Ghazni, is one of the villages where the 82nd Airborne has been operating as part of a broader effort to drive away the Taliban. Seven soldiers from his brigade already have been killed. Many others have been wounded. And on a recent night — they're expecting to go up against the Taliban again. Taliban Infiltration Of Village Massive helicopters lift off in the darkness, stuffed with Delta Company's soldiers and their Afghan partners. Minutes later they land in a field and pour out into the swirling dust. The soldiers regroup, and for the next hour move quietly toward the village of Bagi Kheyl, arriving just as the eastern sky begins to glow. The soldiers walk through the mud-walled village, single-file on each side of the dirt road. Village men — most of them over 50 — emerge from their compounds. They watch the intruders, standing and staring. The soldiers question some of the men. One of them talks about how the Taliban infiltrate the village. They slip in on motorcycles or come in at night in small groups, he says. They ask for food, a place to stay. They take over the mosque and broadcast a warning. "Whenever the Taliban come in here, in this village, they are calling on the loudspeakers of the mosque. If anybody talks to the ANA guys or American guys, I can cut your head," the villager says. The mission continues. The soldiers fan out. The Americans instruct the Afghan soldiers to search a mosque, which only Afghans are permitted to enter. The search turns up rocket-propelled grenades hidden in a wall, along with bomb-making components inside a coffin. The soldiers also find rifles and radios. EnlargeAmy Walters/NPR U.S. soldiers arrive early in the morning in the eastern village of Bagi Kheyl in an effort to surprise any potential Taliban. They walk through the village, taking down residents' information and searching for signs of the Taliban. The equipment is gathered in a pile and destroyed with American explosives. Another cache is found, piled up and destroyed. Success Difficult To Measure Fourteen hours later, the mission is over. There were no Taliban. Still, Enayat Halakeyar, an Afghan sergeant, is pleased. "That was so good; we found a lot of things and blew up two, three IEDs, that was so good. We are so happy," he says. It's been one more day in the war in Afghanistan. One village searched — out of a countless number spread across Ghazni province and the country. The Afghan and American soldiers head back to base under a blazing sun. There are no helicopters now. They'll trudge the five miles through fields and villages. They worry the Taliban are watching. Most patrols come under fire when they leave a village. But they make it back safely to their base, which is rimmed with razor wire, sandbagged walls and guard towers. These soldiers from Fort Bragg, N.C., will spend another four months in the same routine. But they don't have much time to clear this Taliban stronghold. The officer in charge of the mission is Col. Mark Stock. He sits in his office in a long, plywood building at a base called Warrior. "At the end of the day, it's not going to be our success, it's going to be the Afghans' success," Stock says. When he leaves in September, a smaller American combat unit will replace his soldiers, along with training teams to help the struggling Afghan forces. "What keeps me up at night is how we transition this, and part of that transition is us backing off and enabling our partners to do it without us and still be successful," he says. Across a dirt road from the colonel's headquarters sit the remains of an old British fort, its 20-foot walls worn like a sandcastle at the beach. The fortress dates back to the mid-19th century — another time when other English-speaking soldiers tried to make a difference in Afghanistan.

Why we don't get Afghanistan

David has now arrived at his FOB (Forward Operating Base) in Afghanistan, so we can now send him packages and snail mail.
He has requested packets of laundry detergent. Cindy, Craig, and I are endeavoring to find him some. On Thursday, I'll be sending him a package of goodies -- Cadbury eggs and several editions of The  Economist.
That's David for you.
Today's link is to a New York Times story that tries to explain why Afghans riot when a Koran is burned but show a more muted response to the deaths of 16 civilians at the hand of a murderous American Army sergeant.
We have such a fundamental gap in our values. To the Afghans, according to this article, religion is more important than lives. Lives lost are mourned, but justice is found in blood money.
Ironically, the concept that religion is more important than this short life on Earth is shared by the Amish, according to the Feb. 28 PBS documentary on their lives. Think how the Amish rose up to forgive a gunman in 2006 who killed five little Amish girls in their school house.
The difference, of course, is that the Amish seek peace. Afghans seek -- what? Survival? A passionate worship of their God?
Here's a quote from the story:

"Mullah Qayoom is surprised that anyone is surprised.
“Humans were sent here to worship and protect religion,” he said. “That is what the purpose of a Muslim’s life is.”
In a world that is becoming intricately intertwined, how do all of us overcome such a fundamental difference?

A new deployment

I can't believe it's been almost five years since I last posted on this blog. I stopped writing after my son David's first deployment in Iraq for five months in 2007.

He went back to Iraq in 2009-2010 for an entire year, but I felt less need to write about it. Maybe I felt that I was now an experienced parent of a soldier. Maybe I had other things to worry about. Maybe I had the delusion he was somehow safer. As an S-2, he was in an administrative position and thus stuck behind a desk most of the time -- unlike his first deployment when he patrolledBaqubah as a second lieutenant.

But a lot has changed in 4-1/2 years. He's now a captain. He's now married -- Dec. 17, 2011 -- to a lovely woman whom our family adores. He and his wife have bought a house in North Carolina.

And now, he has deployed to Afghanistan.

As a supportive parent, I'm not supposed to express fear or concern. It's bad for morale. I'm supposed to be cheerful, loving and keep up the family spirits.

However, ever since I knew he was going to this ancient land that has never been conquored by outsiders, I've had a bad feeling about this one. Nothing specific -- I'm not pyschic -- but just a lot of fears.

Less than month before his departure, some Army clunkheads burned pages of Koran. Yes, they thought they were trying to stop secret communications between prisoners, but it didn't take much in the way of brains to notice how the Afghans revere their Korans. What it took was some cultural awareness and an Arabic translator before you burn the trash.

So as has happened in the past, many Afghans took to the streets in protest. Two Afghans killed four American military men in two separate incidents. Now, an American soldier out of JBLAM (Joint Base Lewis and McClaren) went door to door in three villages near Kandahar and killed at least 15 people, including nine children.

As an American, I am ashamed that our occasional outburst of armed insanity have occurred in Afghanistan.

As a parent of a soldier in Afghanistan, I am afraid -- very afraid -- for my son's safety.

Yes, he tells me he will be safely behind blast walls and not traveling in the field. But as much as I love him, I know he doesn't tell us everything that happens. Soldiers don't, if they love their families.

This is going to be a long six months.

Deployment No. 3

I can't believe it's been almost five years since I last posted on this blog. I stopped writing after my son David's first deployment in Iraq four five months in 2007.

He went back to Iraq in 2009-2010 for an entire year, but I felt less need to write about it. Maybe I felt that I was an experienced parent now of a soldier; maybe I had other things to worry about. Maybe I had the delusion he was somehow safer. As an S-2, he was in an administrative position and thus stuck behind a desk most of the time -- unlike his first deployment when he patrolled Baqubah as a second lieutenant.

But a lot has changed in 4-1/2 years. He's now a captain. He's now married -- Dec. 17, 2011 -- to a lovely woman whom our family adores. He and his wife have bought a house in North Carolina.

And now, he has deployed to Afghanistan.

As a supportive parent, I'm not supposed to express fear or concern. It's bad for morale. I'm supposed to be cheerful, loving and keep up the family spirits.

However, ever since I knew he was going to this ancient land, I've had a bad feeling about this one. Nothing specific -- I'm not pyschic -- but just a lot of fears.

Less than month before his departure, some Army clunkheads burned pages of Koran. Yes, they thought they were trying to stop secret communications between prisoners, but it didn't take much in the way of brains to notice how the Afghans revere their Korans. What it took was some cultural awareness and an Arabic translator before you burn the trash.

So as has happened in the past, many Afghans took to the streets in protest. Two Afghans killed four American military men in two separate incidents. Now, an American soldier out of JBLAM-Joint Base Lewis and McClaren - went door to door in three villages near Kandahar and killed at least 15 people, including nine children.

As an American, I am ashamed that our occasional outburst of armed insanity have occurred in Afghanistan.

As a parent of a soldier in Afghanistan, I am afraid -- very afraid -- for my son's safety.

Yes, he tells me he will be safely behind blast walls and not traveling in the field. But as much as I love him, I know he doesn't tell me or his wife everything that happens. Soldiers don't, if they love their families.

This is going to be a long six months.

Veteran's Day

Today is Veteran's Day. Although David is still very much active duty with five or more years to go on his duty to the Army, he is now a veteran of a foreign war.

So far, he seems to have weathered the limited amount of combat he saw in his short tour in Iraq, and for that I am grateful. I am grateful that he came home alive and uninjured, mentally and physically.

With 857 deaths this year, 3,860 fatalities in Iraq and Afghanistan (as of Nov. 9) and 28,451 wounded (according to the Department of Defense as compiled by iCasuaties.org), I am profoundly grateful that we were not among those for whom a chaplain came to the door or a call came from a hospital.

I am grateful to him for doing his duty as he sees it, along with his fellow soldiers, sailors and marines. I am profoundly ungrateful to those who put him in harm's way in the first place with ill advised fantasies of Middle East policies, oil greed and political philosophies blinding them to the realities of conflicts far older than our notions of democracy.

Oddly, after nearly 16 months of wandering around the U.S. without a permanent home, David has a place to call his own while his parents are temporarily "homeless." We are staying with my mother after giving up our New York apartment and waiting until March when we can get back into our Walnut Creek home.

He is discovering the advantages and disadvantages of putting his life on hold after going off to war for six months; we are discovering the highs and lows of changing places as parents and children, and being both at the same time.

The Los Angeles Times is carrying a two-series on the "Marlboro Marine," a young man photographed by Times photographer in Fallujah in 2004 ( see photo above) who later suffered from PTSD. The series is compelling as the photographer struggles with the journalistic ethics of involving himself in the life of a young man whom he inadvertently made famous. This young man suffered from an unstable home life before he went into the Marines, and that didn't help him deal with his post-combat life.

I hope that we helped to make David strong enough for this experience. I know that he has made us stronger.

I love you, Guy. Happy Veterans Day.

David is home

Our family reunion with David began at Ikea in Seattle.

David asked us not to meet his flight at Ft. Lewis. Because he was arriving after most of the men in his unit, he didn't want any kind of ceremony, and mercifully for him after a flight that stopped in Romania, Iceland and New Hampshire, the Army brass limited the welcome home speech to three minutes.

So he arrived Tuesday, had lunch and went out with his new roommate and found an apartment. By the time we arrived Friday, he had purchased a bed (not before experiencing shopper and sticker shock) and was in full nesting mode. After 15 months of living in hotels, tents and temporary quarters, he wanted his own digs.

My first glance after four months is of him strolling up through the Ikea garage, looking energetic, a little lighter, tanned and happy to see him. He hugged me over an Ikea traffic barrier, a good solid hug, one that said he was really there, really safe, really OK.

I didn't cry after all.

Coming home!

David called today to say he is scheduled to leave Kuwait on Oct. 1 and arrive Oct. 2.

In just about 48 hours, he'll be on his way home.

We won't see him until Friday, at his request. That's hard to deal with, but at least he'll be on U.S. soil, doing ordinary things -- driving his car, looking for apartment, drinking beer at his favorite bar. I'll only have to worry about the usual things parents worry about 23-year-olds get into instead of IEDs, mortars, snipers and overturned Strykers.

Home! Soon!

Waiting for transport

David called Saturday, which was my birthday, and we had a long, lovely chat. He is ready to leave, but must wait until he is scheduled for a flight out of Kuwait. His liftoff date still looks like the first week in October, but it's possible that he could get three hours notice to get on a plane and be out of there. He said he might not even have time to call to let us know.

He sent me a gorgeous fall bouquet as a "stand-in" present until he gets home. The colors are red-and-gold leaves and roses, sunset-colored larkspur and a pink plant that vaguely looks like a Venus flytrap but isn't. Sadly, I don't have a digital camera here in La-La Land, or I'd post a photo.

So his Iraq adventure is nearly over, save for the flight home.

I am glad he came through it unscathed if not untouched. I want to hear the stories he's willing to tell me. I suspect he won't tell us everything, either to protect us or to protect his image to us.

By arriving in June, he missed much of the searing fighting his unit faced in May, and cost them 10 young men. I hope his men accepted him, given his status as the latecomer, it seems that they did.

We watched the new Ken Burns film about World War II last night. It is unusally frank about the torture and killing on all sides -- German, Japanese and American -- as well as bravery with stories from veterans. I think David would like to see it.

No war makes saints of any man or woman, I think.

Waiting game

David is nearly done in Kuwait, according to his phone call today. He has about another day's worth of paperwork to (re)do to army specifications, and then wait.

He could be on a plane in four days, or another three weeks. It's the Army schedule and it waits for no man or woman - - only for its paperwork.

We talked about the big gala greetings in the gym that are elaborately if sometimes not quite exactly planned. I know some of his men arrived at McCord AFB near Ft. Lewis, Wash. on Sept. 13 and then were bused to Lewis to waiting families. Except -- their plane arrived earlier than expected (the planners are not told the arrival time until the plane is well into the air) and not everybody made it on time. Craig and I see this flurry of confusion second-hand through a series of apologetic e-mails that come from the Family Relations Group (FRG in another one of the endless acronyms.)

David would prefer we not meet him for a tearful welcome in the gym, but wait until the weekend after he gets back. He's told us several times there's hours of more paperwork and equipment check-in after a long, long flight, and if he's not checking himself in, then he will be supervising some of the check-in for his men. So, there's not much chance of the big-hugs-and-walk-off-into-the-sunset scenario.

I understand the logic, and I even understand that he will want to decompress, find a place to live, unpack, shower, find his car and his belongings (not necessarily in that order), but part of me wants to see as soon as he steps into that gym at Lewis.

But don't worry, David. We'll be good, and wait till you're ready for us.

Just expect to be crushed by a hug -- and yes, I will cry.

David's cartoon fame

In his last blog, David commented that he couldn't view a Web site called "indietits" because the Army had deemed it "tasteless." He also e-mailed his comment to the cartoonist-blogger, who incorporated the comment into his Sept. 12 panel.

I suspect"tits" was part a keyword program that the Army uses to censure its Internet use, but you'll see the "tits" are not what they seem.

The cartoon humor is not my taste, but since David can't see it on his, he can visit my blog.

David is in Kuwait

I got whiny a couple of days ago, no doubt because I'm feeling the splendid isolation of my beach resort caregiving. So after several days of carrying my cell phone everywhere, I e-mailed
David told him to call me when he had a chance.

He e-mailed back that he was on his way to Kuwait but would call when he got there -- which he did two hours after getting off the C-130.

He's still 3-4 weeks from home, but as he's recorded in his blog (http://fightnicelychildren.blogspot.com/) it's much safer if not as well equipped in some ways.

I was relieved to hear his voice. I really didn't think anything had happened because I knew he was on the FOB near Baghdad out of any combat operations and there hadn't been news of FOB attacks, but still it made me uneasy.

I think now of the generations of mothers going back to ancient Greeks who didn't hear from their sons for 10 years or more, or never heard from them again or knew what happened to them at all. I can only imagine a knot of anxiety that stayed in their chests for all the time their sons (and daughters) were gone, and for some, that knot turned into a lump that never went away.

Long time, no blog

OK, so it's been two weeks since I blogged. I can only tell my half-dozen readers that the move from New York to Southern California took up most of the first week, and the rest of the time I was mostly without Internet access.

I've never felt so cut off.

David called a few times, but I missed a call of his a few days ago because my phone was downstairs at my mother's house while I was upstairs, snoring away. Now I carry it everywhere, so I have no excuse to miss it. I even prop it up in the bathroom while I shower so I don't miss a call.

So David, try again!

Meanwhile, he has had more access to the Internet and has been blogging away.

I'll try to catch up on his comments.

How is it that this highly liberal son of mine -- and I take the credit/blame for indoctrinating him at an early age -- is surviving in the Army? I think I've already shed my Vietnam War-era expectations of a right-wing, "Dr. Strangelove" Army, but still I worry for his career (if not his political soul) when he criticizes administration policy in his blog.

Is he correct? Of course he is! But what I still fear is that the upper echelons of the military leadership -- and certainly the political leadership -- aren't listening and are actively hostile to his point of view. Maybe I'm just less courageous than he is, or more cynical.

The entry "On Living With the Enemy" told me how fragile the relationships with the Iraqis are and will be with the Americans, something we haven't really discussed on the phone. After re-reading it, I could very well understand the paranoia, but I also wondered if the same fantasy played out on the other side in the man lighting the cigarette or another man apparently listening idly across the room. The trust is fragile, as it should be, and David's brigade is leaving after a long 15-month assignment, but that's a short amount of time to build a relationship, and now they will start over again.

Tip O'Neill was right: All politics is local, and this war is all about politics.

That leads me to the photo of David and other soldiers leading a blindfolded Iraqi in Baqubah that I posted on this site earlier.

I have to say that photo disturbed me. It reminded me of the way Iranians blindfolded Americans during the 1980 hostage crisis and Somalians captured American soldiers in the 1990s.

I asked him about it during a phone conversation. He didn't know what happened to this man. He was turned over to Iraqi Police for questioning, and after that, it's hard to find out.

He did recall, he said, another prisoner, a 16-year-old who was captured. Under questioning, David said the boy broke down crying and confessed working with insurgents.

In my mind, I saw this young boy, very afraid, and perhaps with reason. He is a child led on by propaganda, religion and/or fear of letting down his family (or perhaps the only way he could get food and supplies for his family was to ally himself with a specific group of insurgents). Now he is caught, he has been taught that the Americans will do evil things to him, and he will not be able to go home. What happens to kids like that in this war?

And I wondered about the man in the blindfold: Was he Shia turned over to Sunni, or vice versa? Was he released a few hours later, or still sitting in prison?

I know it's not David's job to find out, and he had plenty of responsiblities for his own men, so I don't hold him responsible for one moment caught on film. But in this grayest of wars, where there are constantly shifting alliances, I wonder where he ended up.

A sad footnote to this photo: AP photographer Talal Mohammed, who took the photo, was kidnapped from a Baghdad bus stop in mid-August and has not been found.

As for the young soldiers discussing the "Muslim Anti-Christ," it is both laughable and scary. Laughable for their ignorance and scary to think that properly (if evilly) organized, such men could be another SS Army or Rwanda troops against innocent Muslims. The tribal instincts of human beings (us vs. the others) keep us alive on one hand and yet lead us to slaughter each other.

In his Aug. 24 entry, he rhapsodizes about Camp Taji looking vaguely like the Central Valley in California and Route 66 in Arizona -- except for the insurgents hitting the PX with mortars. (Maybe not so different from gang-banger drive-bys in the Central Valley.) I detected a bit of homesickness there; a good sign perhaps that he can let down his guard enough to feel it.

And no, David, I'm not worried or upset that you rode above Baghdad in a helicopter, though I suppose my mother instincts should have flared in fear. I guess my journalist instincts overrode this one. If I had the opportunity, I would have jumped at the chance, with or without orders.

And playing Tetris with a forklift does sound like fun.

Big changes

Life as I know it is about to change.

Back in July, my mother fell, broke a rib that punctured her lung and went into the ICU for several days. After she left the hospital, Craig and my sister stayed with her for another several weeks. Dusty tried to stay full time with her (at the time, she'd lost her job, and was contemplating losing her apartment) but it was not a good arrangement. Too many ghosts of past arguments and misperceptions made it a negative atmosphere for both. My sister couldn't look for a job and my mother wasn't getting better.

Her heart is weak but serviceable; it is her spirit that is weakening.

We brought in home health aides as a stop-gap, but at $16-$18 per hour, they are expensive, and in my mother's mind, intrusive. She continues to lose weight, down to a tiny 105 pounds.

So I gave notice and quit my job. As of Sunday, Aug. 26, I am moving in with her until we can get back into our Walnut Creek home in March, and then (I hope) we will move her up with us.


Will I miss my job at TimesLedger? A little yes and lot no. There are several people I've grown fond of, but I will not miss the 40-50 hour weeks, the increasingly lack of quality brought on by the newspaper's sale to the New York Post, and I would have quit in December any way in preparation for the move back.

What I do regret is that I was just starting to "get" New York. I was starting to know where interesting haunts were, places were starting to feel familiar, and even the weather was becoming tolerable. I'd planned to spend the month of January in my own version of a farewell tour of things I hadn't done before, but life is what happens when you're making plans.

I know that being a caregiver is both fulfilling and soul draining. I hope to make some kind of balance between her needs and my own. I will be doing some freelancing for the TimesLedger and perhaps take an online class.

I don't know if this will be my last newspaper job ever. The way the industry is going and with the disadvantage of my age -- I'm dinosaur by HR standards -- it could very well be. If so, I left them sorry to see me go and with a body of work I'm not ashamed to have my name on, and some I'm really proud of.

In this business, it's often the best you can hope for.

There's something you're not telling me ...

So David is in Taji, near Baghdad now. He's had his last patrol for the time-being, and has reassured me that he is in now danger.

Except when we were talking on the phone on Wednesday, he suddenly said he had to go and hung up almost immediately. I assumed he'd run out of minutes on his phone card, but then I this nonchalant comment on his blog:

"The main gate was hit by two car bombs while I was at the phone center a few hundred meters away, but I'm safer than I was in Baqubah."

Which tells me a lot, as does the blog entry below that, which talks about his 10-second fantasy about the shift in trust.

It's not the "I'm OK" message I'm hearing on the phone, but what did I expect? "Hi, Mom, they're shooting at me today? Guess what, it's dangerous out here?"

The mother in me drinks from that cup of comfort on the phone; the journalist in me believes the blog item, and maybe each in their own way, they're both right.

I'm not mad, I'm not confused, I just want him to come home.

He should have some interesting stories to tell.

One more patrol

I hadn't realized it had been three weeks since I posted last, but I have some major changes in my life which I hope to post in the next few days, but meanwhile ...

David called on Saturday (Aug. 18) to say he will be coming home around Oct. 10, give or take five days. By the end of this week, he'll move out of Baqubah to a FOB (forward operating base) near Baghdad for two weeks or so, then onto Kuwait for another two weeks before heading back to Ft. Lewis, Wash. Most of his unit will get home a little ahead of him, but he has to stay behind and essentially do inventory on the thousands of parts, weapons, communication instruments and pieces of equipment that will either go home with the brigade or stay in the Middle East. Everything has to be tracked.

So in Baqubah, his platoon has just one more two-day patrol to accomplish. One more time sitting in a cooperating Iraqi's home, watching the streets for insurgents, checking homes for bombs and avoiding local militia gunfights.

Just one more patrol.

One more patrol.

David photographed by AP

An Associated Press photographer took this picture of David (immediately behind the prisoner) in Baquobah last week.

Missed bite of the sandwich generation

I could hear the persistent beep of a second call coming in on my phone this afternoon as I was talking to my mother in California.

In my mind, I told myself, "It must be Craig; he always calls about this time to see when I'll be getting home."

Actually I was already on the train heading back from Queens to Manhattan, having the usual-but-not-so-usual call I have each weekday with my mother, who lives by herself in California -- or did until a few weeks ago when she took her third fall in 20 months. This time she broke a rib that punctured a lung. She was in the hospital twice for it, and now is on oxygen full time. She hates it, connected to an oxygen generator and dragging around a clear plastic tube wherever she goes, the way Marley dragged his chains in "A Christmas Carol."

The beep continued, then a pause, then the long beep, signalling a message left on my cell phone.

My mother, who is 83, now has my sister living under her roof. My sister and my mother are like kerosene and flame; they ignite each other with sparks of painful angry slights and long-time hurts and neglects. Craig and I get to mediate, although lately I've been more cowardly and let Craig, whom both women admire and respect, do more intervening.

My mother needs care and my sister is trying to do it as well as she can, but sometimes she is bossy and blunt. My mother is trying to survive and express her will to live by denying she's ill and by keeping her independence with a fierce sort of do-it-myself attitude. I'm better at dealing with her, but I know my mother's demands can be endless, while my sister's orders can wearing.

I end the conversation with Mom; she's feeling depressed and unhappy.

I check the message; it's not from Craig, after all, it's from David, trying to reach me after two weeks of phone cutoff at the FOB.

He understands; "I guess you're in the subway; I'll try to call tomorrow."

I'm devastated.

News from David and Southern California

We have heard from both David and Fort Lewis that his unit's Welcoming Home ceremony at Lewis will be in mid-October. The Lewis e-mail set a tentative day, but I'm not going to publish it here yet until we are closer because at this point, it's a moving target.

David said he will be in Kuwait three weeks prior to coming home, doing paperwork on equipment, matching numbers on vehicles and equipment to inventory tracking materials, so he may possibly arrive back a little later than the rest of the company. Ah, the glamorous life of an Army lieutenant! But at least he'll be out of harm's way.

I have added a new link: Stryker Brigade News, which appears to be written and/or moderated by someone at Ft. Lewis. No big secrets revealed but does have an inside view of those attached to Lewis, both in Washington and deployed.

The other bit of news which kept me from posting for a while was that my mother has been in the hospital twice in July, once for a fall and then back due to breathing problems. She was returning to my sister's car after a lunch out when she fell and broke a rib, which slightly punctured her lung. Fortunately, my sister rushed her to an emergency room, and the hospital re-inflated her lung. However, she was in ICU for a few days, and then came home, but then had to return for two nights.

Craig was able to stay there almost two weeks, and did a lot to help her, and I visited for three days last week, and was almost useless except to cheer her up. Dusty is staying with her now, but that is only temporary and we are trying to persuade her to allow a helper to come in more often, but she values her independence above her health.

Sometimes this feeling of being stretched one way to concerns about David -- worrying but not being too protective, letting go what is already gone -- being pulled to protect what is fragile and needing more protection but resisting it, such as my mother -- and then stretched by a job that eats time but pays little -- just frays at me until I have little time and energy left. I think that's why I want to crawl into my historic-feminist novels and Harry Potter's world to get away.

Craig has been tremendous; he knows what to ask the doctors, how to set up the home health care, what to ask the nurses and physical therapists. I don't know what I'd do without him.

Long time, no hear

It's been almost three weeks since I last posted. I hadn't realized so much time had gone by with work and family issues piling up.

We have heard from David, in his blog entries and two calls two Saturdays ago. I was having lunch with a friend (Mia) in a noisy Thai restaurant when he called, and I rushed out just as the spring rolls were served, hoping it would be quieter on Amsterdam Boulevard, but it was still difficult to hear what he had to say as buses rolled by and New Yorkers, ever eager to lean on their horns, drove by on the busy street.

He had a cold, one that was a being passed around the company, and he was a bit grouchy then. The one thing I could hear for sure was that his unit was moving out to a different part of Baquoba.

The second call caught me in the dressing room of Filene's Basement, and was quite brief. He'd been told they were moving out a day earlier, he said.

He has since filed two amazing dispatches (as the journalist in me describes them) each quite different.

The first, an expansive love letter to life and perhaps to an individual, caught me by surprise on a tense deadline day. After I read it, I rushed downstairs to the small foyer where I work and where only the smokers pass through on there way outside. I sat on the stairs and cried because it was so beautiful and because it seemed like a good-bye letter in case he got shot.

I doubt he meant it that way; I don't know, was it?

Then I read it again, and it seemed like a letter written to someone specific, saying all words and thoughts he had in his head about that person but never could say aloud.

Or maybe, it was just a revelatory movie experience after all. Whatever it was, it was gorgeous.

The second part is the other part of the David -- the analytical mind with the cynic thrown in. He showed what he believes about this war -- and I'll talk another day what I think about the war -- and why, at least the way I interpret his statements, his men will play it safe.

What a stupid quagmire our leaders have placed these troops in!

International commerce

OK, so Thursday night I walked up and down Times Square looking for a vendor of DVD ripoffs, hoping to find one of those awful shot-in-the-movie theater copies of "Live Free or Die Hard" and "Transformers."

I wanted to send David copies, especially the "Transformer" movie because he had said he was really looking forward to seeing it. (This film is a grown-up version of young males' inner-8-year-olds' fantasy, making their playtime come to life.) A good mother wants to give her son what he wants, even if she has to violate the law -- a little.

No luck. I saw plenty of street artists, ready to draw a five-minute sketch of tourist's face for $20, and what seemed like millions of tourists, but no street vendors spreading their DVDs on top of blankets on the sidewalk, keeping an eye out for cops.

And there were a lot of cops out, so maybe the vendors were keeping a low profile.

So Saturday, I tried my tried-and-true spot for very recent DVDs, the transition walkway in the Lexington Avenue/53rd Avenue subway station between the E train and the 4-5-6 lines. Nearly everytime I've hurried by to catch a train, at least one vendor has been out and about.

But again, no luck.

On Sunday, I confessed my failure to David on the phone.

"No problem," he says. "My sergeant already got the 'Die Hard' movie here and he'll probably find the 'Transformers' movie soon."

So much for a mother's sacrifice.

David blogged July 8

David checked in by phone and by blog on Sunday. He was almost light-hearted about his "Saddam's Revenge," a reaction to bad local water. He After I talked to him on the phone, I wondered if I should have been more worried, but because he trained as an EMT, so he knows enough to know when to get medical treatment, and not play the tough guy. Still, it's not fun, and I'm glad he has some time off this week to recover.

I haven't blogged much this last week, partly because of work and partly because David's blogs have been so thorough and evocative. But I also find that the sense of crisis mode I had when David first went to Iraq has dissipated somewhat, the way the inevitable 9/11 mood faded. The wave after wave of Google alerts listing bombings, casualties, Iraqi and American politics, and most of all, other bloggers commenting with varying levels of insight (or idiocy) and political angles has become numbing.

And that numbness is both deceptive and disarming. I am sitting 10,000 miles away from Iraq, and it's easy to be swept away in the daily detritus of my job of newspaper deadlines, of Paris Hilton and Scooter Libby stories (played equally and more prominently on broadcast media than the war), family issues and even in the cultivation of my terrace garden. But in Iraq, people lives are at best, greatly disrupted, at worst, torn apart.

Still, it is inevitable that we -- David, Craig and I -- have all adapted to this "crisis." We wait for the phone calls and blog entries; we send packages, wait for them to arrive. As a parent, I am trying to adapt to a situation of the adult child telling me it's all in day's work to drink bad water -- offered by a local resident in good faith and hospitality -- and to suffer its consequences. It's all in a day's work to bang down a stranger's door and take over the home -- and feel bad about it, but knowing it is necessary for this campaign. It's all in a day's work to know that someone is shooting at you, but what you recall at the end of the day is a little girl's smile.

Regarding David's July 4 blog entry, the cynic in me was surprised that the Iraqis welcomed the American Army to take over their homes. But given their situation, what else could they do? Al Quaeda took over Baquba with Taliban-like strictness, even forbidding smoking, which is much more common there, and then kicked people out of their homes so they could rig them up as bombs. Of course, they sincerely welcome the next wave of invaders who will destroy the bombs and get rid of the invaders. But our guys can't stay too long, because it is human to say within their hearts: "Get the hell out all of you and leave us in peace."

It has nothing to do with how our people handle the people -- although how they behave will be remembered for many years after -- but just the weariness of war.

I think I've rambled on enough.

NBC broadcast

New post from David

David posted one short item and one long item on his blog (http://fightnicelychildren.blogspot.com/) over the last few days. One is a comment on the Scooter Libby abomination (no secret on where I stand on that!) and a lengthy description of what he's been doing. The editor and mother in me thinks he's done a wonderful job describing the situation.

Link of the Day

This blog keeps a running list in excruciating and sometimes numbing detail of the war in Iraq as it affects Americans, Iraqis and insurgents.

Into the breach

David called at 5:45 a.m. today. I woke up immediately to a half-ring, groggily trying to remember if it was the sound of the phone or Craig's alarm clock. He had already gotten up and picked up the phone.

He had two pieces of news. His platoon's time in the reserves, of holding perimeters and running food and water to civilians, is over; he is going into throes of battle in Baquaba, clearing houses and searching for insurgents -- and enormous, hidden IEDs planted throughout the town. His first shift began later tonight -- three days on, one day off -- so we should not expect to hear from as often.

I asked him something along the lines if his job was nerve-wracking.

He interrupted: "Not nerve-wracking. I've just had to learn a lot in a short amount of time."

Just over three weeks ago, we were hiking through the forests of Mt. Rainer National Park; now he is responsible for the lives of 21 men, for a mission and dealing with a hostile human and physical environment.

The contrast rolls one's brain in circles.

I try to say something that is supportive but not suffocating, or to ask even good questions, but I am so glad to hear his voice that I can't think. Craig is better at this than I am; he even remembers to take notes so we remember exactly what to get him.

He asks for a few personal items, and then gives the second piece of news: A camera crew from NBC News filmed his staff sergeant during their humanitarian mission. He thought might be on tonight's (June 27) broadcast of "NBC Nightly News" so he wanted us to look for it.

It wasn't; but we'll keep looking, and I'll post a link or try downloading the clip from MSNBC and post it here when it happens.

He didn't seem to think he'll be in it; still it will give us a view, however slight, into his world.

The TV news distracts me from thinking about his changing assignment and he carefully and casually mentions it, underplaying it. Or, maybe I overplay it.

This is what he came for, what he trained for, what his officer training was all about. Still, it must be bigger, dirtier, more uncertain than any training could give him. I fear for him, not because he is incapable or untrained, but because the risk is greater and shaped by an opponent who uses his cunning to fit his ideology -- as we all do.

Except this enemy builds IEDs, and we use tanks and artillery.

Sunday call

We connect in the strangest places.

David called Sunday morning while my husband and I were hiking on trail in Harriman State Park, about 35 miles north of New York City. It was lucky that we were near the top of the trail because cell service is spotty in the park.

Craig and I huddled over his cell phone on a mountain trail canopied by oaks, maples and tulip trees, trying to catch each word. I brazenly hushed other hikers as they walked by (later apologizing.) fearing we would lose the connection.

He is fine. His unit is in brigade reserve, meaning they are not currently in the thick of the house-to-house action in Baquobah, but they are called in as needed, and when they’re not called, they sit around in his three-Stryker platoon on the edges of town. He is in command of 21 men.

Sometimes they keep the residents from leaving town. The newspapers are saying that’s to keep the insurgents and Al Qaeda fighters from slipping away, but there are also residents who want to go out for daily shopping or personal errands and then come back, and that’s a problem while the fighting is going on.

His other missions include escorting two loads of humanitarian supplies – food, water, medicines -- to people in Baquobah. One, organized by the Iraqi police, was chaotic; the other, organized by the Army, was less so. In one of those missions, he worked with Audrey, one of his ROTC classmates from GW-Georgetown who is an MP (military police office) working with the Iraqi police.

He also helped escort the Stryker ambulance that carried out the wounded and dead when a Bradley tank was upended by an IED. There was a quite a firefight, he said, before they could get away.

To me, he sounded tense and tired, but he said he is happy with his assignment. He asked for bath wipes, because it’s hot and dusty and they sweat a lot. Even though their tents are air conditioned, the daytime temperatures remain about 100 degrees F. He said he drinks about eight to 10 liters of water a day, sweating out most of that.

He asked what was new here, and I find it hard to say something that doesn’t seem trivial. So we talked briefly about Mayor Bloomberg’s plan to charge drivers $8 to drive in downtown Manhattan (his reaction was generally negative.) He asked for a download of a Jon Stewart show and news about the war. I promised to send him a “subway” copy of the “Transformers” movie as soon as it shows up in the merchandise of sidewalk vendors.

As we talked with in the near idyllic Eastern woodlands of Harriman State Park, the only sound disrupting the wind and birdsong was the distant thunder of artillery at West Point or its nearby Army base, both just about 10 miles from the park.

For us, reminders of the war are never far away.

Link of the day

I'm not a big fan of Fox News, but this correspondent is on the ground in Baqubah, and has some interesting observations on daily life there.

http://michaelyon-online.com/wp/surrender-or-die.htm

Google alerts

Google alerts are filling my e-mail box.

It's my own fault. The search words are "Diyala," "Baquobah," and "Warhorse" -- the latter for David's camp, or FOB, as the Army labels it.

When I told people about David going to Iraq, many told me to stop listening or reading the news. I thought it about trying that, but it's not in my nature. I have been in newspapers as a reporter or editor for 35 years, and it's ingrained in me now to read newspapers, watch and listen to broadcast news, and now, to find it on the Internet.

So every day, Google sends me about 20 to 30 alerts, mostly the same stories.

"The U.S. military said 14 American troops have died in several attacks in the past 48 hours..."


"The U.S. military said 14 American troops have died in several attacks in the past 48 hours..."


"The U.S. military said 14 American troops have died in several attacks in the past 48 hours..."

The repetition is numbing and frightening at the same time, as if each time the total was new and additional casualties were piling up.

Most of the alert stories are culled from other bloggers, who have linked to major media stories or who are commenting on the war. I don't find much use for most of these; they don't give me new facts and their opinions are repetitive and rarely well formed.

The trouble is that I'm a media gatekeeper, you see. I look for the source of information and the value of those sources, an activity not always found in Internet sites, and I'm not really interested in someone's interpretation.

Still, I have found some off-the-wall sources I don't find in The New York Times, which by the way, is doing the best coverage in American media.

For example, InfoVlad.Net Clearinghouse 2.0 - http://clearinghouse.infovlad.net, clearly an anti-war site, is reporting that the 1920s Brigade of Sunnis is not supporting the U.S. effort in Baquobah, contradicting the Times stories. Which source is more reliable? Generally, the Times, but you have to keep your ears open to the non-American and even Arab opposition sources, especially in times of war. The one truth a reporter learns is there is never one truth, but many ways an event is perceived, comprehended and digested.The way the Army is perceived, no matter what they actually do or don't do, has and will be key to their survival.

So what do I get out of welter of conflicting and sometimes depressing and disjointed facts clogging up by e-mail account? I'm not sure. It somehow comforts me to try to put this puzzle of events together. For me, knowing is better than not knowing, but I also know it's a way of putting the events at arm's length, as all journalists do to protect themselves from the pain of life.

Link of the day

This is the link of the day, a five-facts-about-Diyala-province from Reuters that's useful:

http://www.alertnet.org/thenews/newsdesk/BUL045191.htm

More on Baquba

For the second day in a row, David's Stryker commander is quoted in a lead story from The New York Times' front page. Click http://www.nytimes.com/2007/06/20/world/middleeast/20military.html?_r=1&ref=world&oref=slogin for today's story.

I'm sitting here in rainy, steamy Queens, ignoring work, wondering what he's seeing, doing, reacting to, and realizing the limits of my art and my work for the last 30 years -- journalism. The New York Times is brilliant at giving the overall picture, but of course, I want the closeup.

Maybe that's why he's there, too.

Baquoba push

David posted briefly with his mailing address on The Interested Soldier blog yesterday.

The New York Times has a lengthy story on the Baquoba offensive on its front page today. I've put a link to the story, but to summarize:

More 2,000 troops, led by the Third Stryker Brigade, is leading a charge against Sunni insurgents and Al Quaeda.

Fighting is expected to be hard.

There are about 2,000 insurgents around Baquoba, a mix of Saddam's army and paramilitary, Al Quaeda, and embittered Sunnis. They are increasingly well trained, disciplined and well armed.

The operation has begun by assaulting their hideouts. The next step is house-to-house clearing.

Resistance, so far, according to the Times, has been limited. The city's population has turned against Al Quaeda and seem to hope if Iraqi forces can join with Americans to get Al Quaeda out, Americans will go home.

However, insurgents have buried enormous bombs, able to blow up armored vehicles, around the city.

I don't want this blog to be repeater of news stories; there are plenty of blogs that do that much better, plus I am very conscious of the copyright issues as someone who has been on the other side of seeing those rights blindly violated. So, I will link to stories and occasionally summarize stories that I think are useful or interesting.

Baquoba in The New York Times

The New York Times has a lengthy story on the fighting Baquoba (spelling of this name seems to differ, depending on style guides, I guess).

To summarize:

The U.S. Army is working with Sunni forces to drive Al Quaeda forces

Baqubah

This appeared in the Los Angeles Times this morning. I can't say that it encourages me.

THE CONFLICT IN IRAQ: JOURNALIST SLAIN; A PROVINCE DETERIORATES

U.S. troops form uneasy alliances in Iraq
In Diyala province, soldiers are willing to risk teaming up with militias to fight insurgent groups.

By Garrett Therolf, Times Staff Writer
June 18, 2007

BAQUBAH, IRAQ — U.S. soldiers on patrol here recently watched a man walk into the street with a bomb and begin to dig. They killed him before he finished. Out stepped another man to finish the job, so they shot him too — then another, and another and another.

In all, five people tried to place the makeshift bundle of munitions in the same hole within an hour.

"You see what we're up against," said Adam Jacobs, a 26-year-old Army captain, after recounting the astonishing story.

Despite a major push by U.S. forces this year to retake deadly Diyala province by focusing on insurgent outposts in Baqubah, huge sections of the city have no meaningful American or Iraqi security presence.

The roads are riddled with explosives powerful enough to kill soldiers inside every vehicle at their disposal. Al Qaeda in Iraq caravans career through the streets with men openly carrying machine guns.

Many of the militants arrived in Diyala after being pressured out of portions of Baghdad by the U.S. troop buildup there. Even more were pushed out of Al Anbar province, the desert hinterland west of Baghdad, when tribal sheiks who had harbored them decided to form an alliance to expel them.

Diyala is now the primary sanctuary for the militant group, and some American officers worry that the insurgents will spread out into the country at an increasing rate. The future, they worry, will be marked by an increasingly sophisticated armed resistance to U.S. and Iraqi security forces, and the imposition of a stringent fundamentalist vision of Islam on the people within the fighters' grip.

On a per-capita basis, Diyala has proved to be the deadliest place in Iraq for American troops, although its total casualties trail those in Baghdad.

The violence here also contributed to the high toll in April and May, the deadliest two-month period for Americans in Iraq since the 2003 U.S.-led invasion.

The situation is so desperate that U.S. forces over the last month decided to seek uncomfortable alliances with some of the groups that have killed Americans but now say they hate the group Al Qaeda in Iraq even more, and are willing to fight it.

Members of the 1920 Revolution Brigade, a Sunni resistance group that is dedicated to the expulsion of U.S. forces and takes its name from the revolt that pushed out the British occupation, are among those newly granted the right to patrol with U.S.-supplied uniforms and be exempt from AK-47 weapons seizures, said Lt. Col. James D. George, the acting American commander in the province.



Hopeful period

Just a year ago, this region appeared to be nearly pacified. Al Qaeda in Iraq leader Abu Musab Zarqawi was killed just outside Baqubah, and U.S. commanders decided the province was ripe for the transfer of primary responsibility for security to Iraqi forces.

Instead, Al Qaeda quickly regained a sanctuary in the province and imposed its extremist interpretation of Islam. U.S. and Iraqi security forces scarcely venture into west Baqubah, where smoking is prohibited, as is the sale of women's clothing by men. Even placing a cucumber next to a tomato in the markets is forbidden because they have been gendered male and female.

Violators have been arrested and confined to outdoor mats in makeshift prison camps. U.S. soldiers found and freed 41 people last month in such a camp, including a 13-year-old boy who said he had been caught smoking.

As Al Qaeda assumes some of the trappings of government, the elected local government faded from view for long stretches of the last year.

The provincial governing council did not hold a single meeting for six months ending in April and spent only 2% of its $165-million budget for basic services and reconstruction projects last year.

George said things were slowly improving after a sustained effort to retake Baqubah since his brigade's arrival in October. A $228-million budget was recently sent by the provincial governing council to Baghdad for approval, and government salaries are once again flowing.

The commander credits the tenuous gains to the block-by-block effort to take back the city, beginning with a police station in the southeast section where Al Qaeda operatives had lowered the Iraqi flag and raised a black one.

"We said OK, fine, we're taking it back," George said.

But even with the recovery of the station, he acknowledged that security in the surrounding area remains poor, and the effort to add more U.S. military outposts has not reached the western half of the city.

"Obviously, we had hoped to be farther along by now. Unfortunately, the enemy has a vote," George said.

A significant hindrance to the effort has been the Iraqi security forces, he said. The Iraqi army and police proved to be ineffective and abusive, targeting Sunni Arabs for detention and holding them for 10 months or more without any access to the courts, George said.

In the meantime, U.S. forces in Diyala are looking past the Iraqi police and army for help driving Al Qaeda from the province. Dozens of militia members have been outfitted by American troops with brown T-shirts spray-painted with numbers and will soon be provided with cards identifying them as members of "the Concerned Local Nationals."

The gunmen are allowed large caches of AK-47s and ammunition, and they are promised eventual positions in the Baqubah police force.



Risky strategy

George said the group included members of the 1920 Revolution Brigade and other fighters who have engaged in violent battles with Americans, but he said no one on a "high-value target" list would be able to evade American capture.

"Since we came here, the No. 1 priority has been to drive a wedge between insurgents and terrorists, and this is one of the only ways to do that," George said.

He acknowledged that aligning with fighters whose long-term agenda remained unclear was risky, but said it was part of a countrywide strategy to jump-start efforts against the insurgency.

On a recent day, Capt. Marc Austin led a squad of soldiers from their command outpost in an abandoned women's college to visit the new partners.

Along the way, Austin passed homes demolished by Apache helicopter fire after insurgents used the dwellings to set off bombs that killed members of his company. Main thoroughfares were impassable because of bomb craters. On one narrow street, Austin's men had been ambushed by snipers on rooftops.

"On each of these streets, I've lost guys," Austin said.

Finally, at an intersection where three of his men died in a Bradley fighting vehicle when it was struck by a makeshift bomb, the soldiers entered a courtyard to find dozens of men wearing the brown T-shirts.

The men said they knew where to find two newly planted improvised explosive devices in the road and agreed to dig them up for the Americans, who then detonated the devices, causing windows to crack. One of the devices blew a 6-foot-deep crater.

"Thank God we found that. It would have destroyed basically any vehicle we have," 1st Lt. Sean McCaffrey said.



Rifle turns up

But relations soured when the Americans found a sniper rifle in the home that was not covered by their agreement. When Austin insisted on seizing the weapon, some of the men's eyes began to well with tears and the leader of the group, who identified himself as Haidr, said, "We are trying to help you, but you are not trying to help us."

The Americans walked a few blocks to another abandoned home where more members of the Concerned Local Nationals were found.

Austin asked for the man he had been told led the group, but a thin man wearing a red "Seattle Sport Club" sweatsuit said he was the group's actual leader and wanted Austin to leave.

"He said he doesn't want to work with the U.S. He hates the U.S.," the American military interpreter said. "He said the neighbors say, 'You guys don't work for Iraq, you work for the U.S.'

"If he's not going to go outside and tell me where I can find these IEDs," Austin said, "what's the point of me letting him maintain AK-47s here? What are we doing if he isn't going to dig?"

Finally, one of the militia members agreed to wear a disguise and point to the place where the Americans could find an IED.

The soldiers laid some explosives on top of the spot in the road and took cover inside the home of a 78-year-old man who said he had been abandoned by his 12 children when they left for safer parts of Iraq. The old man said he had no food and wanted to die.

Outside, the explosives laid by the soldiers blew up, but there was no IED underneath.

garrett.therolf@latimes.com

Happy Father's Day

David called from Baquobah at 6:30 this morning, hot, tired and dusty from a night mission, to wish his Dad a happy Father's Day.

I was in still asleep, but my husband was already up and picked up the phone.


"I'm waiting in line at the barber's," he told us.

I tried to imagine why he'd need another haircut since he'd already gotten a buzz cut just before Memorial Day, but wearing a helmet in the 115 degree Iraq heat must make any longer hair itchy, I thought.

My husband had opened the tie and card David sent before he left. They bantered about the tie design, David saying he saw designs he would have liked, but chose one that his Dad liked.

He gave an address to send mail and packages to, the first we've had since he left the country.

He's met his platoon, and most importantly, his staff sergeant, his key non-com. He's been out on two missions both at night, though he didn't tell us what he'd been doing, except he'd mostly been observing, but soon he will be leading.

This is what he came for, why he turned down a "safe" post at Ft. Riley, Kansas, where he would have taught safely out of harms way, so that he could lead a platoon.

The Army is fighting Al Quaeda here, which is in the midst of a falling out with its former Sunni insurgent allies.

His requests were a surprise to me: a type of strap for his glasses so they stay on, called Rec Specs; cash (there's a PX, a coffee place, but no ATMs at Camp Warhorse); and Arabic coffee in a Arabic coffee can.

Arabic coffee? Isn't that like bringing the mountain to Mohammed?

We think he wants the can more than the coffee, but whatever the motivation, we'll find it.

It's a happy Father's Day.

Call anytime

The other-worldly pulsating ring of my cell phone went off after midnight, not long after I'd closed my book and turned off the light.

Groggy, I stumbled out of bed in the dark and ran into the living/dining room of our apartment, my bare feet padding on the parquet floor. I groped through my purse for the phone that cast a faint glow on the table but managed to lodge itself stubbornly its snug storage bag.

I'd told David several times last week when he called from Baghdad to call anytime, day or night.

Finally I pulled the phone out, flipped it open, remembered to hit the send button, and put it to my ear. I heard a faint woman's voice mutter something indecipherable -- and then nothing.

"Hello? Hello?" I said loudly, still standing in the dark.

Nothing. I looked at the face, and it showed the ocean scene wallpaper I'd picked from the standard phone choices. It's re-appearance meant the caller had disconnected.

Was it him? By this time, my husband had stumbled out of bed as well, and we both stood there wondering if we'd missed a crucial connection.

I checked the received call list. The number had the same West Coast area code as the number I'd retained when we moved from California to New York.

Most likely, a wrong number.

We crawled back into into bed, spooning despite the warm night, his hand on my hip.

By the sound of his breathing, I knew he wasn't asleep.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked.

"I was wondering what David is doing, where he's at," he said.

"Me, too," I said.

And here I am, at 2:07 a.m., still wondering.

A beginning

The phone call came Wednesday morning, during the middle of deadline for the weekly newspapers I work for. I immediately grabbed my cell phone out of my purse, put down the proofs I was editing, and answered. I knew it was from David, my son, in Baghdad.

He was heading out to Baquoba, about 35 miles north of Baghdad, by helicopter, that night.

By night, I asked? I tried to imagine flying over the surface of the desert, which he had said looked like pictures of Mars, in the night.

Yeah, that's the way we do it, he said.

I grasped then the safety of flying at night, lights low, making them less of a target. But I also thought of the copters that had been shot down. I did not say that.

I asked instead if he felt ready to go.

He had heard me ask this before, and had his answer rehearsed.

He felt well trained, he was ready to meet up with the (platoon? sorry, David, if I have the term wrong) of Stryker team members he'd be guiding. This is his first tour of duty, and he is joining a team from Ft. Lewis, Wash., that has already been in Iraq for at least eight months.

I told him, unhelpfully I'm sure, it was OK to be afraid, that fear would keep him sharp.

He didn't want to hear that, so instead we talked about movies, Tony Soprano, bit torrent software, and that his grandfather had been in the hospital briefly but was back at the assisted living facility where he resides.

Then there seemed little more to say. I told him, I loved him, to stay safe, and that we would send him things when he got a permanent APO. He reminded me that in the Army, no news is good news.

And since then, no word, no e-mail, no post on his blog. It is now late Saturday night. I don't to hear from him for a while. Too say he is busy is some kind of understatement, but the definition is unclear. I don't know yet what he is doing. Did the Army send him out to fight right away in the active Diyala Province? Or, is he doing what he has done each time he goes to a new post: fill out reams of paperwork and sit around and wait?

I just know it is past 10 p.m. here, which means no one in a chaplain's uniform can knock on my door until the next morning.