Almost Veteran's Day: Reality Hits

photo taken by SSgt Francisco Tataje

With Veterans Day now only two days away, I wanted to post this diary entry as a reminder of the reality of the veteran life. 

11 October 2005 Journal Entry:

On the way to work this morning, all of a sudden I had a terrible feeling about Theresa sweep over me.  Then, when I got to work, I had an email from her telling me that Matt Hendricks was wounded! L  I got the rest of the details from Greg McSween and then Kate.  It’s just terrible! L  He would be dead if this was Vietnam.  He is already on his way to Bethesda tomorrow.  I am so upset about this.  I just can’t imagine how upset Kate and her family must be! L

I am very upset about Matty Hendricks and worried to death about Theresa, Bryan, and my Matt H (on his way).  The reality of this war is blaring in my face right now (also with DJ’s near death mishap last week) and I miss my family and friends.

Oh, and this is Matt’s and my two year non-anniversary anniversary. 

Been a weird day L

If you’ve been reading along, you’ll recall that Matt Hendricks, his sister Kate (one of my best friends from college), and I all had lunch together in the chow hall at TQ only a month before.  We three sat, face to face, and smiled about being where we were.  We’d all had long roads there for different reasons, Kate was on her way out, and Matt and I were on our way in, and all three were proud to serve.  When someone you know is wounded or killed, you’re not any less proud to serve, but it makes things sting a little bit, I think.  I immediately wanted to call and email everyone I loved and tell them so; I wanted to reconcile with ex’s and apologize to family.  I wanted to grab a hold of everything I could that meant something and hold it till my knuckles were white.  I asked questions like “What if that had been Theresa?” or “What if that had been Matt?”  I made mental notes like “Life is short” or “You could die tomorrow” that have stayed with me today.  I’m not a shell-shocked vet; but I was close enough to it all to make it real, and to make me really appreciate every day I have on this earth.  For some people, an unexpected car wreck and subsequent loss of a loved one jolts these thoughts into your heart; for most of my friends, it was the rumble of an IED or the impact of an RGP that did so.

There was another reason that day carried extra weight for me.  October 11^th, 2003 I got married.  Exactly one year later, I was divorced.  A year from that day, I was in Iraq contemplating death. 

Many deaths are caused by war – both physical and emotional.   Marriages die from deployments, friendships crumble from catastrophe, and futures that were planned get blown up and changed by limb-tearing injuries.  I think because of the premonition-type feeling I had that morning about Theresa, the news hit me with even more force than it would have otherwise…and I began to fear my gut when I had such feelings about other people I knew.

 *Note: “my Matt/Matt H” mentioned in previous journal blog entries is not the same Matt as Matt Hendricks/Matty.

I Can Kick....Stretch...and KICK! I'm fifty! Semper Sarah reaches 50 countries

In no particular order, the 50 countries Semper Sarah has reached in four months :)

1.       US

2.       Canada

3.       Ireland

4.       UK

5.       Netherlands

6.       France

7.       Germany

8.       Guadeloupe

9.       Brazil

10.   Peru

11.   Singapore

12.   Japan

13.   South Korea

14.   New Zealand

15.   Australia

16.   Bahrain

17.   Egypt

18.   Syria

19.   Turkey

20.   Serbia

21.   South Africa

22.   Russia

23.   Croatia

24.   Denmark

25.   Spain

26.   Afghanistan

27.   Austria

28.   Portugal

29.   Malaysia

30.   Iraq

31.   Latvia

32.   Sri Lanka

33.   Romania

34.   Mexico

35.   Cook Islands

36.   Hong Kong

37.   Indonesia

38.   Ukraine

39.   Poland

40.   Estonia

41.   Argentina

42.   Israel

43.   Uganda

44.   Turkey

45.   British Indian Ocean Territory

46.   Dominican Republic

47.   Japan

48.   Dutch Antilles

49.   Belgium

50.   Sweden

Semper Serenity Now

Summin' Up September '05

If you’ve been reading the previous blog posts, you should have a good idea of what the day-to-day life was like for me during my first month in Iraq.  Because I was so new to the Intelligence field as well as to the Squadron, I was initially given very little responsibility.  I worked the night shift, which professionally meant that things were slow since we didn’t fly as many missions at night (or that tended to be a convenient time to perform maintenance on the birds); personally it meant that my schedule aligned with the daytime hours of my friends and family back home; and health wise, it meant I often felt out of it or off, since I tried to sleep during the daytime hours.  I had the ability to email, call, and write family and friends like Margie, Tori, Theresa, Kate, DJ, Chris, and Matt basically as often as I wished.  I moved rooms a couple of times, but eventually was allowed to settle into an apartment about the size of (and situated like) a first year college dorm.  I used the other “bed” as a makeshift “dresser” until Patrick fashioned me one later that year.  When the generators died, we slept on cots in the tents adjacent to the Alamo.  I read a lot, wrote a lot, worked out a lot, and, ironically, watched my Friends DVDs to feel connected to “real” people.

Exactly one month after my arrival, Mike and I broke up.  Correction: he dumped me.  Modification: I probably induced it a little bit.  In my twenty four year old mind, I’d thought he was “the one;” although, my definition of that changed diurnally depending upon what book I was reading, whether or not Ross and Rachel were “on a break,” in what mood my various best friends were in regards to their own love lives, or which ex-boyfriend with whom I was communicating.  Mike was special, though, as much as I tried to cheapen the break up for my own salve.  He’d come in and out of my life for five years, but breaking up on separate continents had a different finality to it.   I even contacted an ex-girlfriend of his to bitch at her about a previous quasi-transgression he told me about a few months before, and inadvertently unearthed more details to his back-story that made it a more painful split in one regard, but better in the other because it made it quite clear he was a jerk.  Also inadvertent – the friendship she and I formed.  (She wrote me and sent me care packages with girly magazines for the remainder of my deployment.)  Being sure that I could label him “jerk” was a good thing, though, because clarity is what we seek in break-ups like that, isn’t it?  If we can split the person in two, it makes it easier to discard the pieces of them that hurt us…along with the pieces of ourselves we don’t like.  

Admittedly, I was still incredibly immature (or “compulsive,” I think he called me once) and didn’t handle things calmly when my feelings were hurt.  I wanted reasons for everything when there were no reasons to be had... or that he was human and just returned from war himself and was lonely now while I was gone, or because sometimes falling out of love is just as mysterious as falling into it – whichever side of the car wreck you’re on, you walk away from it confused. 

All in all, it worked out for the best, but as you can imagine, it was a vacillating process to get to the point of believing that. I moved on, though.  It wasn’t much of a choice given the surroundings.  Only “moving on” looked different in Iraq then it did back home.  I couldn’t go out with friends, talk to my family any time I wanted, hit the bars, maybe date a new guy, or veg out on the weekends.  Instead, it meant I focused more on work, increased communication with everyone else in my life, ran more, and ate better.  Also, I wrote daily mantras in my journal like “MOVE ON,” but I think that would’ve happened at home or in Iraq. 

I think I coped pretty well.  As a Marine, you spend such an inordinate amount of time training before you’re allowed to do the real thing.  Therefore, however tedious my job seemed to be, it felt salacious to finally be there, and that distracted me from sulking for too long.   On October 3^rd, I effused serenity – “It was another gorgeous morning!  SSgt Cornejo and I had a great run and then a little workout.  I feel good.  My life is in God’s hands and I cast my worries on Him. Each day can be a surprise from Him.  He will bring true love back into my life one of these days. ;-)  Some days, I think of no man in particular, and miss no man in particular.  I just am happy, content…know that God will put the man He wants me to be with in front of me. J”  I’d hit all the musts that morning: I’d bonded with one of my Marines (paramount), worked out (important), absorbed the beautiful day (nature always made me feel close to God), and felt centered within myself (got balance).

And of course, notes from home like these really did cheer me up.  The first letters I received from Tori and Margie were unknowingly posted to arrive perfectly post-breakup.

(From Tori) Sarah Foof! Hope this package finds you healthy and settled in TQ!  I figured with your feet in boots all day you could use some pedicure goodies and the bright pink polish is to remind you of me! J So girly stuff and a gun holster? I was dying laughing when Matt told me that is what he was sending you.  You need another?  How many guns do you have, fool?!

(from Margie)   SOUPIE! (Did I ever tell you my former roomie Allie has a dog named Soupie? The dog is in Singapore with the rest of Allie’s family, but it makes me laugh whenever she talks about him.  And no, I’m not calling you a dog – just a bitch – I mean, I LOVE the Triumph CD!)  Hope all is well over yonder!  I don’t know what you do with these little letters I send, but I would hope you either post them on your desk, sleep with them under your pillow so you can dream about these moments, or you use them as toilet paper.  Any of the above would let me know that you cherish such letters.  Love and meow, Largie

On a Book and a God

In the last six months, most of my effort in starting to write a book has been directed toward soaking up advice, not in the actual writing of the book itself.  I’ve been shown, as well as discovered, a myriad of free teleconferences and advice-giving forums, to include one the National Association of Memoir Writers conducted a couple weeks ago.  It was a full day event of interviews with successful memoirists with tips and advice galore to whomever cared to dial in.  One of the last groups they had as guests were “young memoirists.”   This is where I first heard of Elisabeth Eaves, now in her early 40’s, and her book Wanderlust: A Love Affair With Five Continents.  She had a borderline abrasive straightforwardness about her that I liked.  Many of the authors I’ve heard at these various speaking engagements are overly apologetic on one end of the spectrum, or overly salesman’y on the other; it was refreshing to hear someone speak unabashedly about their work.  Plus, it was a travelogue memoir.

I went on Amazon and ordered the book before the interview was over.

The short chapters were easy to read and clearly demarcated significant events and people whereas the longer chapters served their purpose in providing deeper dive looks into locations where more action took place or where more emotions were experienced.  Stylistically, I enjoyed it immensely.  Few books manage to capture an eloquent, educated voice while remaining simple, but Eaves does it well.  If I were to judge it just on the quality of the writing and its accessible style, it was excellent; when one begins to judge the author – and we do judge characters in fiction books, too, so I don’t think it’s any harsher to do so in a memoir – I lose a little of my interest when I see that time and time again she doesn’t appear to overcome any “real” adversity (other than a week-long hike in Papua New Guinea that goes awry and sailing the south Pacific seas during a massive storm) – she’s just achieving success in regards to her self-made obstacles.  So although it is strong in the entertainment factor, and admirable that she went on so many adventures, it lacks in the inspiration category.  If one keeps hurling themselves against a brick wall just to show how tough they are, what’s the point?  She doesn’t seem to make anyone else’s life, or her own for that matter, better in the process.  Although, by the end of the book, she basically asks herself those questions in one flavor or another, as well as asking “What will make me happy?”  She asks, but doesn't answer.

A good memoir shows a progression, a transformation, growth in the protagonist.  I was disappointed for Eaves that it did not seem like she really learned much about what her fundamental sense of self was other than someone who constantly left others behind and only sought satisfaction of selfish impulses.  Of course we all do this in varying degrees of directness and intent, but her writing implies she always did this completely on purpose. 

The closing of the story left me feeling a little depressed.  So, in a sense, I guess the book was good insofar as it burrowed into my psyche, but I did not like what it did once inside.  The early stories initially came across as healthy wanderlust, self-challenge, and questioning in her late teens and early twenties but then become self-absorbed, pointless lust-quests by her early thirties with no real conclusion about how to move forward in her life any differently.  Going on a pilgrimage of adventure, culture, love, or faith (or whatever you want) and at least aspiring toward a higher purpose, even if you don’t find it, seems more admirable to me than just setting out to get yourself off.  She does things without thinking.  There’s no evaluative nature to what she does, therefore, no purpose.  She’s introspective but only for the point of how to please herself later or get herself out of a current commitment. She’s lost but doesn’t even have any semblance of a compass, of an internal guide whether by personal maturity or any form of faith.  That seems sad to me.  When she is at a crossroad as to whether or not to move to France with her boyfriend, she says, “My self-image is as a person who would go.  I’m the kind of person who would do this, and therefore I have to.  Even if I don’t love the reality, I love the story of following my diplomat boyfriend to Paris, and of being a writer there.  I want to have the enviable life just because it’s enviable.”  She’s saying this as a thirty-year old woman.  My take on that is if you can identify that you’re doing it just because it’s to create an enviable façade, then why not have the backbone to decide not to go?  Had she learned nothing?!  She follows him to France, and waffles about their relationship the entire time they’re there together.  Ultimately, her conclusion is that she doesn’t know if she can be faithful to anyone.  By the end of the book, I was left without hope…without hope for her. 

The silver lining is that the book did get my brain churning about how I should write about my travels.  Her story provided something to which I could compare/contrast myself.  Reading is as much a part of the writing process as writing.  Therefore, although I’ve read plenty of memoirs by non-famous people, I’m now reading them with new energy and seeking out travel and military oriented memoirs more than any others.  Beyond my desire to write about these topics myself someday, I need to relate to these books on a human level as well as continue to add utensils to my writing toolbox.  I need to see what other people have done.  I need to evaluate how we are similar and how we are different.  I need to be mature, and identify the differences without just insulting the author.  As much as Elisabeth Eaves’ stories and mine have in common – thank Gosh someone else did some of those crazy things I did! – ours are very different, too.  In a way this reassures me on the personal level because it reminds me that although so many of us seem to be the same on the surface, in reality we are individuals with unique stories.  I need this reminder when I start to doubt that I have anything special to say.

In wanting – nay needing – to distinguish myself among other memoir writers, I also have to be similar in some ways because my story needs to reverberate with more than just a handful of people in order to make a lasting difference.  I hope that when I finally do write my story that it does hang hope in some peoples’ hearts.

Last night when I finished the book, I frowned.  I wondered, “Is this how my book will seem to others?  Like my trips were one self-indulgent jaunt after another?”  Then I went to church today, and – in all seriousness, PRAISE THE LORD! I think I’ve finally found a good church again.  The pastor’s message didn’t have anything to do with what I’ve been writing about today, but as all good sermons go, the message alighted upon other areas of my life, too.  God speaks to you where he knows the words have been missing.  And so today’s sermon reminded me of what I know, but I often forget: I traveled yes, for the thrill of travel, but also for faith and love.  I learned good and bad about myself and feel I found the courage to change accordingly.  I’m not anywhere near perfect; I am a work in progress like everyone.  But where I think my story is different in the biggest way is that God was always my travel buddy – whether other people realized it or not.  Perhaps that’s why I feel compelled to tell my stories…because I’m afraid people will think I went off traveling for the same reasons Elisabeth Eaves did when I know that there was so much more to it, that some of the stuff I experienced deserves to be accredited to the glory of God not attributed to me, and to talk about how I found God in the most unexpected places.  Moreover, I hope it inspires other people to believe, trust, and absorb the love He offers…and the love you have to offer to others, of yourself.

Always A Matter of Perspective - 18 September 2005

a picture of Becci & Reton she emailed to me while I was in Iraq

It’s often a matter of perspective…

18 September 2005: Excerpt from Email to my sister, Becci

“Things are good here.  I’m just a little lonely.  I don’t really have a peer group at all.  Patrick is the only other Lt and there are 3 Captains but they are older and married and there are no other Marine units on our side of the base.  So, there’s no one for me to even mingle with most of the time.  I have A LOT of friends in Fallujah, though, and am jealous because their life is more normal in a lot of ways.  They can meet up for lunch, they have better facilities, there are more people around, etc.  That sounds like a funny thing to say! Haha.  “I wish I was in Fallujah.”  Oh well, I’m not complaining because things could DEFINITELY be worse. 

So far I’ve got a pretty good routine going but it hasn’t turned into “Groundhog Day’ yet.  It’s already been almost a month since I left.  Wow, that’s hard to believe.  Anyway, I moved rooms again yesterday, then had an awesome run, crappy sleep, and a decent day at work.  Then this morning I got to talk to a buddy for over an hour and then Dad for almost a half hour.  I couldn’t believe they let me stay on the phone that long at the phone center.  Then I went back to my room and got the best day’s sleep I’ve had in a week because my new room is much quieter and I fixed the AC.  Then I got up went for a walk, lifted legs, and got ready for work.  I am not eating very much here at all and apparently have already lost a bunch of weight.  I originally was thinking this was a good thing…but when I wake up sick because I haven’t eaten in 18 hours, that’s probably NOT a good thing.  Hopefully I can find a balance between eating enough and not eating too much.  I don’t think I’m in any danger of eating too much, though, b/c the midrats we get (which is my “lunch”) are usually terrible so it’s nothing I want to eat a lot of anyway.  Ok, so enough about food. 

Overall, I’m pretty happy and with the time passing quicker now that makes things SOOOO much better.  I am very dependent upon email and mail for emotional support, though.  My job isn’t that demanding because my Marines do all the real work, but it is nice to be in a job where I have to worry about someone else other than myself.  I don’t think I’m going to do the Defense Language school because it is about 2 years long, and then after school you owe 5 years.  If I’m going to owe 5 years for anything, it’s going to be for flight school.  But, really, I think I’m going to end up sticking with intel and getting out in September 2007.  I want a family someday…or at least the chance to be with someone in one place for more than a few months at a time! haha J  This lifestyle in the Marine Corps just makes it impossible to have any “normal” relationships.  It’s very frustrating.” 

Those last couple of sentences captured a popular topic of discussion among my female Marine friends: the dichotomy of our professional lives and personal lives.  Even early on in our careers we already had the sense that the separate spheres of our lives would be irreconcilable in the near future.  It’s not that you couldn’t have a family while you were in the Marine Corps – or while both you and your husband were – it's just that it would be an extremely challenging lifestyle, one which (under ideal circumstances) you likely would not choose.  Especially as young officers, we’d have at least two back to back deployments, if not more, and you weren’t likely to find a man to wait on you back home while you were in Iraq, or to follow you around from duty station to duty station the way the guys seemed to find women who would do so.  Of course men did face some of the same challenges we did in regards to family life, but the nuances of our challenges were more poignant. We had to physically make those babies afterall! ;)  Plus, it was/is still more socially acceptable for the man to go off to war and the woman to stay at home than vice versa – generally speaking. (I know there are exceptions to every generalization.)

Always Atmospherics - Daily Details of Deployment cont'd

"Lake Night" by Francisco Tataje
the sun setting over Lake Habbaniyah - a treat for us at TQ

Traveling and going to war are similar in some respects.  It makes you a hyper-observer – at least in the beginning. The mundane becomes memorable, the new person a novelty, and you excitedly soak up every detail you can and recall every event of your day.  The feeling wouldn’t last forever, of course, but at that point in my deployment I was still enthralled by most of what went on around me or what I did day to day.

9 Sept (group email)I went running in the heat of the day at 12:30 (I think it was only 110 Fahrenheit) and I actually felt pretty good.  I got a little bit of a tan, too. J  I only ran about 3.5 miles, but then I walked for a while and went to the gym.  Keep in mind, I use the word “gym” loosely since what I lift weights in is a shoddy tent with old and broken equipment covered in a thick layer of dust-dirt.  There are no fancy cardio machines, no water fountains, no music playing the background…but it gets the job done and I am very appreciative of my iPod.  I had my first good lift since I’ve been out here and it makes me feel quite excellent.

Dinner (and my first meal of the day) was delicious tonight.  We had fried chicken, rice, and fresh honeydew.  Oh ya, and then someone brought in a  packet of Otis Spunkmeyer’s chocolate, chocolate chip cookies and I ate a couple of those…and then someone else brought in a huge piece of cheesecake and I hate some of that too.  Uuuuuuhhh.  Now I’m sick.  That’s the first time I’ve had a large amount of sweets like that in a few weeks and my system’s already not used to it.

So, now that I’m on the night shift, every time I go to the bathroom after 2030 it’s pitch dark outside.  My little trips to the port-a-johns have allowed me to really notice and appreciate the stars.  I can see Orion’s Belt early in the evening, and then by 0500 it’s directly over the Alamo where I live.  That’s one thing that’s pretty cool out here; it gets soooooooo dark at night and you can see things in the sky you’ve never seen before.  The Milky Way is just, bam, right here…I don’t think I’d ever really seen it before…or at least not like that.

I am reading a new book finally: “Me Talk Pretty One Day” by David Sedaris.  It is hilarious and an easy read, so it’s good reading material while I am bored at work.  It’s funny, too, because the main character has a lisp problem with his s’s.  Hmmmmm, I can relate. ;)

For those of you who are getting tired of my monotonous, daily updates already – I’m sure the novelty of things like the night sky and a clean port-a-john will wear off soon.  In a week I’ll have nothing else to talk about! ;) I really hope that everything is going well for everyone and I appreciate all the emails about all of your lives.  Please keep writing; it makes my day to have lots of emails in my inbox when I come to work.  Love and prayers for you all. 

10Sept – Sat 4amI'm on the night shift now, but still adjusting, so am very tired.  It’s been a decent week overall. The Lord has done a lot of work in my life the last week.  It’s been awesome.  I am very blessed.

Email: Turns out our TCU crapped the bed again last night and the flight didn’t go up.  So we all pretty much just sat around and hung out for awhile.  There is a Corporal here from ops who looks just like my brother did when he was 20.  I think the kid is hilarious.  He challenged me to an Anchorman quote off.  He admitted defeat when I knew the actual lyrics of “afternoon delight.”  It was a good time.  Then at 0200, I had to drive SSgt Thompson to mainside to catch his flight outta here.  So, now we’re down to 2 0231’s and 2 0241’s and then me and Patrick for our intel shop here. 

They’re sending Patrick off soon, too, which won’t be a bad thing.  I’m already getting itchy with my personal and workspace and he likes to impose himself quite a bit.  When I scoot away, for instance, when he gets close to me at work, he gets pissy and acts like I’m being a weirdo. Um, no, I just don’t like getting touched all the time.  And again today he was just loitering around work for no reason when it was time for him to go home.  It’s hard for me to really start working when he’s always around, but in two days we’ll be on completely opposite schedules and it won’t be an issue anymore.  Anyway, I know myself well enough to know that it’s about that time when I really need my own space.  I don’t mind working out and doing things on my own, and sometimes it’s actually really nice – like today when I went for a walk with my iPod.  I walked again instead of running because I got up at noon (I’d worked till 3am yesterday) and hadn’t eaten in awhile so it wouldn’t have been a good idea to run.  But I did a pull up, push up, sit up work out afterwards, so that made me feel good.  I’d really like to get a good run in tomorrow, though.

Always Egregious? Thoughts on Sadaam, Iraq, the War - Then and Now

photo taken by SSgt Francisco Tataje

With the recent declaration that all troops will be out of Iraq by the end of 2011, this excerpt from an email from to my brother in September of 2005 seemed apropos.  One funny side note, later in my deployment we all thought we might get sent home early as the promises of getting out of Iraq began to surface.  I don't think we ever took it seriously, but it still cracks me up that there was even the hint of it SIX YEARS ago and it's only now that are we really withdrawing troops. 

I wrote: Things are good here.  I have been in Iraq for almost 3 weeks already.  My job is very interesting most of the time and my Marines are smart and motivated.  I am very lucky there because most Marine Officers spend their time babysitting Marines because they are 19 year old trouble makers.  Fortunately, my Marines had to be extra smart and capable to get the job they have, so they tend to be pretty good kids (and by kids, I mean half of them are older than I am).  I have 3 Staff Sergeants working for me (a 35 year old, a 32 year old, and a 28 year old), 2 Sergeants (30 and 27), one Corporal (23), and 2 Lance Corporals (both 20).  Mike and I are “together.”  I put that in quote because he is stationed in Hawaii and I am here, but we are trying to make it through this deployment.  It will be a big test for our relationship, no doubt.   

Anyway, I have regular email and typically work 11-14 hours a day.  It will be nice to come home with lots of money, though, since I can’t spend anything out here.  There are many pretty parts in this country, but where I am is in the middle of nowhere and very dusty and desolate.  Fallujah, Baghdad, and Ramadi are all along the Tigris and Euphrates respectively, so they are lush, green cities…unfortunately, according to what I've been told and some things I've read, Sadaam Hussein dammed up most of the other smaller rivers in the country and that is why the southern half is so dry now.  People always just assume it was naturally like that, but it wasn’t until Sadaam decided only he and his sons could use the lakes and rivers etc and dammed them off to everyone else in the country.  Real nice, huh?

Here is a paragraph from an email to Dad in response to some of his questions about 9/11.  I’m not trying to start a fight with you or anything, but I figured I’d send you my opinion since I am here in the middle of this.   “That movie about Flight 93 sounds good.  I’ve never heard of it or seen it, though.  I haven’t really seen that much footage, period, on 9/11 post-9/11.  I can’t believe it was 4 years ago that that happened.  It doesn’t seem that long ago at all.  Speaking of documentaries – there is one here that we watch to remind us why we are here fighting.  It is hours of footage from when Sadaam’s regime was in control and shows him torturing and killing his own men.  Very disturbing, but reminds us (even those of us that really wonder why we’re here sometimes) that whether the presence of WMD was exaggerated, or whatever specific issue you may have with why we shouldn’t be here, that we are here and we are trying to help these people in Iraq.  Sadaam Hussein was a horrible man and regardless of him having WMD or not, we did the right thing by removing him, his government, and capturing him.  I wish people could understand that.  Our President, his officials, and our government are not infallible; but that doesn’t make our presence here or what we’re doing inherently incorrect or morally wrong.  And it’s more than just “supporting the troops” to say “well, ok, I don’t agree with the war, but I support the troops.” Do more than that!  Support the ideal!  Support democracy!...trust me on this, we are trying to do a good thing here and many of the people and the towns are turning the tide.  They are tired of being trampled on – either by Sadaam or by the insurgents.  Unfortunately, we can’t be everywhere at once and always help these people in every circumstance….but we are trying…we are trying.  I don’t think people truly realize what a daunting task this is that we are undertaking.  So many people back home make it sound like we are evil doers and trying to rule the world.  But when you really think about it, how is what we’re doing here meeting that supposed end to rule the world?  By sacrificing young American lives and peoples’ money and resources to spend months at a time in a bereaved country trying to find IED’s on the side of the road an insurgents hiding in houses just to save a life or two, or just to try to make it safer for the Iraqis to vote – how does that help us rule the world?  We are not here to stay.  We will leave.  But for now, we need to be here to save these people, and do this knowing the risk is it may not work, and they may not thank us, and the world may call us names.  But you know what?  We do it anyway because it’s the right thing to do. "

In closing, I finished reading The Postmistress a couple weeks ago (speaking in current time now ;)).  This particular passage struck me:  “All that time over there” – her finger slid along the rim of the glass – “getting it down, getting it right.  But it can’t be gotten – the story just whispers off in the dark.  What happens next? What happened?  I can’t bear it.”  I often wonder…what has really happened to the people we thought we were saving, helping, or otherwise extending the life of?  I, too, often wonder about the people... about those who we thought we "saved" and about the families of those we didn't.