Welcome back, Jers...

Ah, Iraq. Nothing makes my day more special than waking up to the sound of a recorded Imam's singing, the sand blowing in the wind, the smell of unwashed livestock and human bodies ever present.

Driving through the third-world villages, reminecent of the Flintstones, except the huts are made of mud and hay, it's amazing that these people live in the 21st century. Fecal-infested water, compounded with trash, urine, animal waste, and run-off, make intersting gutters right through the living areas and roads of the villages. A people in which plumbing and garbage disposal aren't a concept, and the word "conservation" only gets you a blank stare and a confused look.

Children litter the area. Plithoras of them. They come from every door, every recess, giving us the 'thumbs-up!' and asking "Miss-ta! Cho-ko-lot!' constantly. It seems that these kids are starving, but instead, they've learned that it is so much easier to take hand-outs from the Americans than to actually do the work themselves.

An interesting game has come from this. Often children will flock to any US Soldier, asking for candy. Often candy is given out, yet who brings enough for a mob of little brats? A fight will ensue as a bigger kid punchs and kicks a little kid for something as simple as a tootsie roll. No kid is too young, too weak, or too unprepared to be jumped by two or three others for some candy, in which usually neither of the combatants will end up getting.

The first rule of Iraqi Fight Club is to get the candy.

Local Nationals, otherwise known as LN's. In the civilian verbatum, you would know them as the locals who inhabit whatever country you happened to be in. To us in the Army, (and I'm sure in the Marines, Air Force, and Navy, too) we have our own universal word; Hajjie

Hajjie - A muslim person on Hajj, the pilgrimage that they take one a year during Ramadan to complete the 5 Pillars of Faith

Hajjie (Army) - Someone who happens to be a Middle Easterner. Not an enderment. Think 'Charlie' from Vietnam...

Since the Army (and those other branches) never have enough people to do the things that need to get done, we hire 'Local Nationals' to take care of it. Dumping trash. Cleaning showers. Emptying the Porterjohns. Unfortunately, some poor sap needs to 'guard' these LN's while they make their merry way through the base, so that they don't do anything stupid.

Guardin' hajjie, the same guy we look out for on patrols, the same guy with his finger on the trigger or his thumb on the clacker. The guy we hunt for, search for, bust down his door for. Never trust 'em. Ever.

Because the moment you do... is the moment they betray you. Or the day you kick down his door and you recognize the guy who cleans your chow hall. Or you find out he's selling out information about you and your movements, and he's responsible for trying to kill you.

Guardin' hajjie...

The other day, I damn near broke my neck while we drove through an nice bumpy field full of wahdi's. My head got turned into a pool ball and got myself a nice case of whiplash.

The things you got to do to get a day off...

220v/50hz. For all those born in the Western Hemisphere, you're probably wondering what the hell I am talking about. "Don't we Americans use 110/60?" Absolutely correct, if it ever comes into question. But here, in the Middle East, plugs and power are like a roulette wheel. There are no les thn 4 different plug types here, some of which amazes me that they work at all. I don't think Iraqi's have invented power polarization, yet...

 At night, watching the (3rd world) country side, I can see the lights of the houses and buildings in the distance, of farmsteads and villages. Without warning, those mute glows will be extinguished, as if God turned off the switch, and everything will go black. Not one light to be seen. I always wondered why Iraqi lighters had LED flashlights at the end of them, these little disposible BIC lighters that all Iraqis carry (because they all smoke), and when you see the power go off, fail, die; you understand.

Just when you think you've seen it all...

Travelling down the streets of the local 'city' in our sector, early morning. The bazaars are closed, there are no cars in site, and the people have yet to get up as the Imam's pray begins with the rising of the sun. The 'city' is quiet, thankfully as we drive through, our eyes scanning for threats. As we round one corner, my eye catches movement and I immediately focus on what looks to be an upturned cow leg... kicking in the air.

wtf?

As I look closely, I see this Iraqi/Kurd/whatever with a machette, chopping into some baby cow, the blade burying deep into its guts. The leg kicks and flails as I see an interesting spray of blood coming from the poor cow's abdominal region.

"Turn around! Go back!" I yell above the rushing wind, downward to my truck mates.

"What for?"

"Some dude's sacrificing a baby cow! We gotta go back and take pictures!"

Ahhh, the tastes and culture of an US Army Soldier... needless to say, we did NOT turn around and get a picture.