Monday, August 07, 2006

Falling Into Place.

Within a couple months shit seemed pretty normal...as normal as it could be. My roommate and I went to work at around 8 everyday and got home around 6 or so. We didn’t mind. We worked right next to each other and would run back and forth during the day. G and I were the girls that were always laughing, busting balls, getting into “trouble”…we didn’t do bad things…we just liked to have fun. Everyone would try to point the finger at us for stupid shit but they never had proof . One night we took a hummer and did donuts in a parking lot. We also would stack sandbags half way up peoples doors…we’d knock really hard like we were someone important and the person would try to open the door…almost breaking the shit in half…it made for a good laugh. Our Command Sergeant Major (CSM) would always let us drive his car and one day G was parking it and ran over a cement stump. The stump was painted bright yellow and when she hit it she blew one of the tires. CSM chewed the shit out of her…he tore her apart. He had her outside for three days repainting that stump an even brighter yellow. He also asked to see her license from back in the States because he didn’t believe anyone who drove like that had a “real license”…the thing was she had lied to him…she didn’t really have a license. We had to call home and get a NY license.
G worked at the DVQ, which was basically a hotel. All the famous people and high army officials stayed there. While we were there Robin Williams, Vince Vaughan, Colin Powell, and the Chief of the Army Reserves General Helmy came. Robin Williams did stand up…he’s pretty funny. I wrote an article on General Helmy. He was nice. One day a top General flew in from Baghdad and we were sitting on the couch, playing on the internet. Her sergeant had left his music playing on his computer and the song changed to some “titties ’n ass, titties ’n ass…” song and it wouldn’t stop repeating it. And this fucking General walks in and we were suppose to jump to attention. But we just stared at the guy like, we didn’t put this song on. Thank god he thought it was funny and didn’t get us in trouble.
I started writing for the newspaper within the first week. I loved it. I was really shy at first…I didn’t really know how to approach people but I just went with it. Also within the first week my commanding officer and I had to go outside the wire to all the surrounding villages where the newspaper usually covers story. To do this we had to go out with the Civil Affairs unit. Whenever we would go out we would go with them. They were worked as security and acted as “spokesmen” for the Army. The high Iraqi officials in the towns would all meet with the Civil Affairs team and talk about projects that were going on within the village. The first time out I was so nervous. I packed my flack vest with so much ammo and I prayed…kind of…I was like, if there is God or anything don’t let any of us die. It was pretty intimidating. We went to 11 villages. We didn’t get out of our vehicles at all of them. But I saw Iraq with my own eyes. It wasn’t like the shit I saw on TV…TV has no emotion…it just goes from one clip to another…like, oh a Soldier died and 10 Iraqis were blown up and now here’s John Smith with the weather. People weren’t running around burning flags and yelling at us. I saw the people we were tying to liberate...if that is what we are doing over there. I saw the way people looked at us. The way they smiled at us. The way some of them ignored us and the fact we were rolling across their land. I saw kids…so many kids. We really should be passing out condoms there. I guess I was pretty naïve when it came to the kids and women. They loved seeing female Soldiers out there. There usually isn’t a lot of us that go out there. I held a lot of hands…I was grabbed a lot…all I wanted to do was smile and try to show that I cared and I didn’t want to harm them. I don’t know if they thought I was harmful…but I was just curious like they were. I met these two little girls at one of our stops. They were sisters and one was mentally handicapped. They just stood there with 6 humvees around them holding hands. I gave them lollipops, learned their names, they hugged me and showed me where the lived. Their mom was peeking out from the back of the house…she’d duck every time I looked in her direction. Finally she waved and showed me her other baby. At another village the Editor of the newspaper (who is a Staff Sergeant) and I came across a lady washing clothes in her backyard. She had three kids running around. She held up her little boy…she was so proud…we took some pictures. Then we saw a baby behind her…he was basically stuffed into a milk crate and had hundreds of flies on his face. We took a couple pictures but she started freaking out so we had to stop. I guess she wasn’t proud of that kid. I didn’t want the mission to be over. One girl asked me if I would come over and play at her house. I didn’t know if I wanted to cry or laugh. All I could think was, great we’ll drink tea and play house. And then Osama’s best friends, cousins brother who lives next door to you will see me, he‘ll cut off my head and you‘ll have a new soccer ball. I guess she was just as naïve as I was. Our trip was finally over and we didn’t get attacked.

4 Comments:

Anonymous Kira said...

You held up a lot better than I would have. Good job, girl.

8/07/2006 11:00:00 PM  
Blogger Caulkboy said...

Wow! Absolutely unbelievable! I must say, your writing is done very well.

Reading these stories, I can't help but tell myself how lucky I am and how much of a whiney little bitch I am for complaining about my petty little problems.

Thank you once again for your service and sacrafice!

8/08/2006 08:23:00 AM  
Blogger Lois Lane said...

aw thanks kira. hopefully ill see you soon! <3

8/08/2006 10:01:00 AM  
Blogger Lois Lane said...

Caulkboy,

thank you...i really appreciate it!
haha yeah, sometimes i feel like an asshole for complaining too.

8/08/2006 10:02:00 AM  

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