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This website is privately operated and is designed to provide personal information, views and commentary about Jill Morgenthaler’s experiences in Iraq. The images depicted and opinions expressed on this website are solely those of the author and contributors and not those of any agency of the United States Government, expressly including, but not limited to, the Department of Defense, the United States Army, or the United States Army Reserve. The site is not designed, authorized, sanctioned, or affiliated, by or with, any agency of the United States Government, expressly including, but not limited to, the Department of Defense, the United States Army, or the United States Army Reserve. Users accept and agree to this disclaimer in the use of any information accessed in this website.
Where's the loon?
9 August 2004
Dear Everyone,
I have a lot to share with you: from Qatar to Chicago to Lake Winnepasaukee to Talil to Baghdad, with events from Minority Status to Eagle Scout to Family Reunion to Christian-Muslim-Jew friendship, to Flea-bitten to red rockets bright glare to starry, starry night to where’s my loon, from present events to some reminiscing, and to the good news of heroes in Iraq. I’ve broken down my month adventure into bite-size chunks.
Prelude: I headed out for Rest and Relaxation way back around July 12th. I flew to Qatar (pronounced as Cutter) to await an international flight. In Qatar the wonderful soldiers in Psychological Operations (mission: to persuade or change the mind unlike Public Affairs: to tell the facts) picked me up, got me a room, sent me in the direction of a great gym with a masseuse (yes, Massages Around the World will be a chapter in my autobiography), a great pool and a TGI-Friday minus the tequila. I started relaxing and shedding my warrior mode. I resisted diving under the pool’s deck chairs when a car backfired. I burnt the top of my feet. I smiled from ear to ear. That evening the guys took me to the Three Ships in downtown Doha. It was a wonderful seafood restaurant minus the wine (ah yes, this is still Islamaville). Then we went to the Mall. This was very strange for me to find that the big social event even for military men is to go to the Mall. Russian acrobats were performing and one young lady in a very skimpy outfit was quite the hoola hooper with hoops going all over her. Then, the guys dropped me off at Qatar International Airport. (Thanks, guys for not laughing too hard when I showed up wearing socks and Birkenstocks because I had burnt my feet -- if you know me at all, you know that I am not the love beads and Birkenstocks type!)
Minority Report in Qatar: Digression first: When I was a brand new 22-year old officer I was went to South Korea --not the modern South Korea of today, but the third world South Korea that had never seen an American woman. My job was to inspect every code facility we had in the whole country. This was the Seventies when there were all of 3 women officers in the Corps Headquarters of hundreds of men. For the first time and few times of my life, I was truly a minority. There were virtually no women in 90% of the military units and there were no Western women to be seen outside of Seoul. I stood out in every city and village I had to visit. I remember once, an old Korean man was so excited to see me that he inadvertently spit his lunch on me as he pointed and hollered for the village to come look. Additionally, in the Korean culture, it is perfectly fine to point and giggle behind one’s hand at someone who looks different. I spent that whole year being stared at, pointed at and giggled at. I learned that I would never want celebrity status. I also felt empathy with other minorities: I stood out, I was told I didn’t belong, I was told I shouldn’t be there, I had no one to share my stories or troubles with. I felt so awkward and out of place. It was a humbling and growth experience for me. Enough digression. When I entered Qatar International Airport, I re-experienced for the first time in almost 30 years, the awkwardness of being a minority. I was one of a few Western women. I was the only woman by herself. However, I was not pointed out or stared at (except by the little children). I was mesmerized by the cultures walking by – especially all the versions of women within the Muslim cultures. There were Ethiopian and Sudanese Muslims in bright beautiful outfits. There were the all in black to include the veil and the gloves Muslims. There were the men with two wives – the older one more covered than the younger one (true in most cultures, huh?). There were Bedouins, Kurdistanis, Turks, Africans, Moroccans, Pakistanis, et cetera. We maybe the melting pot in America but our assimilation of cultures loses a lot of flavor.
Chicago and Eagle Scout: After a grueling 20 hour trip to Chicago, I got home 2 days early around noon and nobody was home. Luckily, I was able to get in the house. My dog, Bert, a black Lab, had given me up for dead. When I let him out of the crate, he sat next to me frozen, except for his tail madly beating. As I hugged him, he seem to realize that Mom was home and he started racing around the room like a romping pony. He then never left my side for the rest of the time home. I called Kerry at work. He dropped everything and rushed home. We went over to get Jamie from camp. She was a little put out that Dad had picked her up early until she saw me. She burst into tears as we hugged and this old warrior did too. Neal was nowhere to be found as a typical 15 year-old on a summer day. Kerry finally called him and told him there was news about me. Neal came home on his bike fearing that I had been hurt (I’m sorry) but when he saw me walking the dog, he dropped his bike and his teenage persona and gave me the best bear hug. Family and love. That’s one of the reasons for living, reasons for being.
I was honored to be asked to be part of an Eagle Scout ceremony. In my uniform, I got to present the wonderful young man some letters from the Secretary of the Army and some Iraqi Boy Scout patches that I brought back. What I wasn’t prepared for was the hero status bestowed on me by everyone. I was constantly thanked for serving. I was thanked for the freedoms we have. This is especially strange because I entered ROTC in college during the Vietnam War. I had watched my father, a career Marine, ridiculed for serving. I had things thrown on me at college for being in uniform. My father and I had been called baby killers. He was called a murderer. I was called a dyke. We were never called patriots. We were never called heroes. He was never thanked. Oh, Dad, America knows it did wrong then and I wish you were here for this. And thanks for watching over me!
I saw some friends, I saw my civilian boss and secretary, and I took it slowly. I spent the first four days sleeping 12 hours. This isn’t me but my body knew I was home and had a lot of catch up after an average of only 4 hours of sleep for 6 months.
Lake Winnepasaukee, New Hampshire: We headed there for my mother’s twin sister’s 50th wedding anniversary. It was fabulous. I hadn’t seen some of my cousins in 30 years but everyone was looking good and healthy. I was great seeing three generations of relatives. The weather and the water and the food and the family were wonderful. While there I bought a ceramic loon (the state bird of NH) to bring back to Camp Victory and place with the wooden ducks we have at a small shrine (see photo) to thank the ducks for sacrificing their duck pond to save us from mosquitoes and to provide a better Iraq. More about the Loon later. The shocking thing for me in NH is when my cousin Dave who is my age showed up with completely white hair. I realized that we are middle-aged! Thank God for my big inner child…
Christian-Muslim-Jewish Friendship: The day before I left Illinois Kerry and I got together with S, T, Rhonda, and Sid and had a wonderful Middle Eastern dinner and a great time. To protect T and S, I have chosen to leave their names out of my letter. T and S managed to flee Iraq in 1991 with their young daughter and baby boy. S has continued her medical career but T is no longer a palace architect but a salesman. I caught them up on Baghdad. In fact, T, you will be glad to hear that our civil affairs section is helping the Iraqis re-establish the great fish restaurants along the river. For the rest of you, Baghdad was famous for its special fish dinners.
Talil or flea capital of American bases: I started the long journey from hell through Talil to Baghdad, realizing that I had a better trip home than I had expected. Kerry and the kids are doing great, the cat Ernie renewed his relationship, the dog Bert has promised not to write me off, my boss has great plans for me on my return, my friends. The trip through London was fine. I was picked up at Qatar no longer feeling uncomfortable in my minority status. The next day I was dropped off at the airfield at 5:45 a.m., promised a 7:30 flight – didn’t happen; promised a 9:30 flight – didn’t happen; promised a 2:30 flight – didn’t happen; promised a 7:30 p.m. flight – it did happen. We stopped in Talil around 9 p.m. and some alert airman realizes that the wing was dripping fuel. We sat in a tent until 2:30 a.m. when we were informed that we weren’t going anywhere and by the way there are no tents for sleeping because the one so designated was flea infested. So, the younger people watched movies all night. I, with the mighty jet lag, finally convinced them to let me take a cot out of the flea-infested tent and store it behind the office in the rec tent. I got 4 hours of sleep and some horrendous, disgusting bug bites. Then we spent another 12 hours hanging at the Talil base which is just desert – 125 degrees, sand and fleas. God bless the troops who serve there. Finally, after seeing every Saturday Night Live movie: Old School, Dodge Ball, Anchor Man, we boarded a flight onto to Baghdad. Overall assessment: ugh.
Rockets Red Glare. Since I came back, the violence has risen again. Two mortars missed my trailer by 25 yards last night. The Green Zone had 20 rockets the other day. There is a National Convention next week and the bad guys appear to be restless. Plus, we’re kicking butt in Najaf. I spoke with a woman gunner military police sergeant. She was telling me that as they patrol ambush alley, 30 or 40 militia will attack and we just mow them down. First of all, it’s time to get over women and combat. Second, it’s been a bloody week but only on the bad guys’ side. Presently the ratio is 4:400.
Starry, starry night: The lap pool at the Palace has been opened but there is no lifeguard at night. I took a risk assessment: I can swim, I have been qualified as a lifeguard and swim instructor, I go off of Post without a lifeguard, so I’m swimming at night. It is wonderful! The stars are so bright and just shifted in a different position that it makes the swimming extra pleasurable. As we head towards possible violence, I am trying to stay rested and physically fit – from those will come the mental fitness and the endurance for the long, long days.
Where is the Loon: I place the lovely Loon on the pedestal one evening with the other wooden ducks. The next morning I took pleasure in people noticing it. At lunch, I smiled when others did. At dinner, it was gone!
I contacted CSI Baghdad. After a thorough investigation it was concluded that a Pakistani worker who couldn’t get off Post for safety reasons took it to send to his six-year old daughter. He wrote her a lovely fairy tale about the Loon searching for peace and hope in Baghdad. How could I begrudge this?
Ok, ok, the above paragraph is only in my head. There is no CSI Baghdad, but I didn’t want to dwell on someone stealing it for his or her hooch. Sigh…
Good news: Great stuff still happening here for a
better and free Iraq. Below is an excerpt from American Daily.
Mainstream
Media Robbing Us Of Iraqi War Heroes
(Joe Mariani was born and raised in New Jersey. He
now lives in Pennsylvania, where the gun laws are less restrictive and taxes
are lower. Joe always thought of himself as politically neutral until he saw
how far left the left had really gone after 9/11.)
…The
New York Times will probably never report the story of Corporal Samuel
Toloza, one of 380 soldiers from El Salvador, which was carried in the
Washington Times. Corporal Toloza, out of ammunition, bravely defended
fallen members of his unit from Iraqi insurgents. He charged the enemy,
armed only with a knife. ''One of his friends was dead, 12 others lay
wounded, and the four soldiers still left standing were surrounded and out
of ammunition. So Salvadoran Cpl. Samuel Toloza said a prayer, whipped out
his knife, and charged the Iraqi gunmen." The Iraqis broke, and more
Coalition troops arrived before they could regroup. Phil Kosnett, who heads
the CPA in Najaf, has nominated six El Salvadorans for the Bronze Star.
''These guys are punching way above their weight,'' Kosnett said. ''They're
probably the bravest and most professional troops I've every worked with.''
Yet their story is almost completely buried by the mainstream media's
endless liturgy of doom, gloom, and quagmire.
You will probably never see the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders mentioned
on ABC, CBS or NBC. When attacked by over 100 of Moqtada al-Sadr's so-called
militia (in reality a gang of thugs with a religious motif), the 20 or so
soldiers fixed bayonets and mounted a 19-century style charge. Taking only
three casualties, the Scots captured or killed 35 of the enemy. No American
media outlet saw fit to even mention this action, except those who carry
Mark Steyn's opinion column. Not one seems to have thought of the
Highlanders' action as newsworthy.
Last but certainly not least, no major media outlet seems to have reported
the brave self-sacrifice of Marine Corporal Jason Dunham except The Wall
Street Journal. When a would-be terrorist captured during a traffic stop
dropped a live grenade, Cpl. Dunham apparently pulled off his helmet and
slammed it down on the grenade, covering it with his own body. He saved not
only two nearby fellow Marines, but any civilians in the other cars in line
as well. Lt. Col. Lopez has recommended Cpl. Dunham for the Congressional
Medal of Honor. ''His personal action was far beyond the call of duty and
saved the lives of his fellow Marines,'' he wrote. The last Medals of Honor
were awarded to the two Army Delta Force soldiers who gave their lives to
protect a downed helicopter pilot in Somalia in 1993.
Everyone, please take care!
I accept all prayers!
GI Jill
I am home on leave and will return at the end of July. As
you can see by the Xs, many people have left. I'm providing continuity now.
I am back in the USA with my family for two weeks. There will be no updates until August.
July 8, 2004
I just had to share with you all a sweet event that happened to me and Libby. Several nights ago I thought I was losing my mind. I kept hearing a kitten crying in the walls and the ceiling. The first night I thought it was a trick. Then the second night others heard it too. Last night, we realized the kitty was now stuck in a column. We found this upsetting because the odds of succeeding were slim. We convinced the building manager to chip out a block from the column. Then I was able to scoop out our little tiger kitty. We think she’s a she and about 3 weeks old. She drank a lot of water mixed with milk. We now have her in a big box with towels and shredded paper out on the balcony waiting for Mom. When she’s lonely, she cries and I keep her company. She’s very brave and has quickly adjusted to human contact. We named her Liberty – a little trite but we call her Libby (better than Occupier!). I’m thinking of relocating Mom (who has been seen and is definitely a wild cat) and Libby to field where they can hunt mice.
Life gets very simple. Besides rescuing Libby, our other joy is feeding Saddam’s fish in the moat when we come back from the mess hall. One evening a fellow soldier kept saying, “This is wrong, so wrong” when we fed gold fish to the fish -- Pepperidge Farm Goldfish. I ask him if that was in the same category as feeding gummy bears to grizzly bears? (Kids, don’t try that at home!) Presidential elections, the economy, Spiderman seem so far away….
Below is a story about a local brave Iraqi who survived war and a kidnapping:
By U.S. Army Sgt. Jared Zabaldo
Office of Security Transition, Public Affairs
BAGHDAD, Iraq - … There are no stories of courageous actions of Soldiers taking hills and enemy machinegun positions. The true story of Iraq is that of a nation that will one day do well by that standard. And stories like that of Iraqi Army Lt. Col. Ahmed Lutfi Ahmed Raheem - an officer in this country's newly rebuilt army.
Ahmed hasn't stormed any enemy positions lately. But he shows up for work everyday, like a lot of Soldiers in this army. And in this country, being typical is a standard that "courageous" never met.
For Ahmed, the decision to serve his country again began more than a year ago - 7,731 miles, and three weeks before the announcement on the USS Lincoln.
"April 9, 2003," Ahmed said. "I don't forget this day."
"I was on my way home to Baghdad after my brigadier boss had told me the war was over and to go home," Ahmed said, describing his last moments as a major in the old Iraqi Army air defense unit he had been with for nine years. "He said it was an order," he added.
"So I walked home from our station in Al Hillah, south of Baghdad, but I didn't change my clothes," Ahmed said, "And I came to a Marine checkpoint on a bridge in Baghdad. And I still had my uniform on and the Marine sergeant stopped me ..."
"'Where are you going?' he asked me," Ahmed said in his accented but surprisingly good English.
"And I tell him, 'I am a major in the Iraqi Army and I was ordered to go to my house'" Ahmed said, finishing the backdrop to a life-defining moment he had not seen coming; and on what was supposed to be just a long 50-plus mile walk home to his wife and five children.
The encounter would prove to be a pivotal one for the military veteran because for the next two anxious minutes, Ahmed went through what must be emotions impossible to describe to someone who has never known he was about to die. It was more the result of the 33-year-old's lifetime of experience with the ways of Saddam Hussein.
Ahmed, though, was actually two minutes away from a rebirth of sorts.
"He looked at me for a while and I thought he was going to kill me," Ahmed said. "But he didn't kill me," he added.
"Instead he came to the position of attention and saluted me as an officer," Ahmed said, "And said, 'Sir you can go.'"
"I took a few steps and began to cry," he said, "Because I think, 'Why do I fight these people for ten years?
"This moment changed me from the inside," Ahmed said. "What he did was kill me without pistol. He killed the old major in the Iraqi Army who fought America from 1993 to 2003.”
Ahmed was advised by a U.S. Army officer to apply at the recruiting center in Baghdad and was ushered into the army a short time later as an "officer candidate." After training, he was commissioned a lieutenant colonel in the new army having made the cut for promotion from his former rank in the old army.
Ahmed's story, though, doesn't end there. The now 34-year-old engineering graduate from the University of Baghdad and career Iraqi Army officer has since endured great personal tests in his first year of service in the new Iraqi Army that have reaffirmed his commitment to serving his country.
In February 2004, Ahmed, a Soldier whose face belies his real age with the tell-tale signs of a man who has lived a hard life, was at the Baghdad Recruiting Center when a blast killed more than 47 earlier in the year. The psychological toll was great, but he came back.
Several weeks ago, he saw the aftermath of the latest blast at the center only minutes after the attack that left another 35 dead. The wounds were re-opened, but he came back.
And a little more than a month-and-a-half ago on May 15, he was kidnapped by members of the Shiite Muslim Cleric, Moqtada al-Sadr's Mehdi army on a bridge in Baghdad when a vehicle filled with five armed men forced his truck to the side of the road before forcing him into the front seat of their car for transport to a hidden safe-house.
Ahmed was beaten and pistol-whipped before being knocked unconscious only to be interrogated later by the insurgent terrorists for his association with the new Iraqi Army and the Coalition.
Ultimately he was told not to work with the Coalition anymore and released by the militiamen, but not before they stripped him of his uniform, weapon, cell phone and the vehicle that had been issued to him by the Coalition.
"I said, 'Sir I lost my pistol, my mobile, my uniform and my vehicle,'" Ahmed said, describing the humiliating moment he faced upon returning to the OST headquarters later that day to report the catastrophe.
He had begged the militiamen to kill him thinking the loss of equipment was the end of his military career. But when the Coalition officer Ahmed worked with found out that everything he had been issued had been lost that morning, the officer's response surprised Ahmed.
"And when he saw me crying," Ahmed said, "He stood up and gave me another key to a vehicle. And gave me another pistol and another mobile phone."
"'Don't worry, we trust you,' he said," Ahmed said.
"I really love America for this," Ahmed said. "This is what I wish I could tell every Iraqi."
Ahmed, like so many others in the Iraqi Security Forces that show up for work everyday, knows that security and protection from the individuals bent on denying Iraq its chance at freedom is paramount to his country's future.
"I want to provide security to my country," Ahmed said.
"Saddam Hussein didn't just destroy the buildings and the streets," Ahmed said. "He destroyed something inside of all Iraqis. He destroyed the truth and something inside us.
"You know what Saddam Hussein did inside us from 1979 to 2003?" asks Ahmed. "He was president of Iraq for 25 years. In this period of time what did he teach Iraq? What did Saddam teach Iraq? Fight. Take your rifle. Take your pistol and fight. Fight, fight. Fight for what? Eight years with Iran - fight for nothing. And he told us to go to Kuwait and steal. And he laughed. He taught the people how to steal. He made people forget Islam and the Al Koran.
"So now inside of all Iraqis it is just to 'fight,'" Ahmed said. "And now we're fighting between us.
"I do my best, though," Ahmed said. "I do my best to protect my country and to give my country its security."
And he does one more thing that doesn't earn medals in any army on earth: he continues to show up for work.
And in the face of suicide bombings, targetings, and abductions and beatings, in Iraq, this is just the typical story common to all the 230,000-plus Iraqi Army Soldiers and police service officers choosing to serve their country.
It's not a story of the courageous actions of Soldiers storming enemy machinegun positions. And there are no medals awarded for the simple act. But it's a typical story of valor in this country.
And a standard that courage never met.
Everyone, please keep me in your prayers
GI Jill
Media Mania and Independence Day
July 4, 2004
Happy 4th: Don’t forget to kiss the French!
Dear Everyone,
You have not heard from me since forever and that is how it feels to me. First, I should be heading home but I’m NOT. I have been extended and will be here until the end of September. I will go home for a family reunion and my son’s 15th Birthday (Neal, I wouldn’t miss that for the world, especially since next year you will be driving –eek). Kerry and I discussed the extension and felt that it was best for the Coalition and the Army and therefore the country and therefore for me. Kerry and the kids will survive 60 more days and I will have a sense of accomplishment and closure. I could not leave the newly arriving Admiral without any senior support. Luckily, I negotiated 60 days instead of 90!
What an insane two weeks with the media. First, we had all the media in the world show up for the transfer of sovereignty to Iraq, and then the Ambassador does a secret turnover. It was great for security – caught all the bad guys unaware. But it was frustrating for the media.
Then, we had a change of command between Lieutenant General Sanchez and General Casey. LTG Sanchez has been a true leader. He stayed calm, focus and on mission as Abu Ghraib broke and stayed a story ad infinitum/ad nausea. He took responsibility for the crimes committed during his tenure. (Unlike some of the leaders of the infamous seven.) Hopefully, what his command tenure will be remembered for is: the capture of Saddam, the signing of the TAL, the transfer of sovereignty, the bringing of justice to Saddam and the 11, and the beginning of true freedom and self-governance for Iraq. God bless you, LTG Sanchez!
Then, we had the arraignment of Saddam and the other evil old men. I was there! You can see me in my civilian wear. Check out the desert combat boots with the outfit. Tres chic -- GI Jill fashions. It was a fascinating day both in my life and in history. It will make an interesting chapter in my autobiography that I will write many years hence. What I can say today is that I kept feeling pity for these little old men, and then I would stop myself, reminding myself of the absolute evil committed by them on their people. They kept using the Nuremberg excuse: I was under orders. Except for Saddam, as you can read in the New York Times at http://www.nytimes.com/2004/07/04/weekinreview/04burn.html. He just wasn’t getting that he is no longer the President of Iraq. Will it take a rope to bring reality home to him? Many Iraqis were upset because he was in a suit and not an orange jumpsuit, that he was healthy, and that the Western media has never done justice to the terrible crimes he, his sons, and his regime have committed against the Iraqi people and other nations.
Last night I did a fun interview with David Allen and www.1320ThePatriot.com
Radio station. Some good discussions on the Iranians, the threats, and the real accomplishments in this nation that have taken place. It was a nice way to start the Fourth.
Finally, I have received some wonderful gifts: Irene, thank you for the great body and hair nourishments. Rene, thank you for the wonderful products for the women. St. Martins, thank you for the towels for the Soldiers and Marines. Chicago White Sox and Jim Balcer, thank you for the summer hats! Everyone except Boston Red Sox fans wanted one. I saved two for the kids.
I hope everyone is having a great summer. Keep your prayers coming!
Jill
Helping Geraldo do a live show with LTG Sanchez
Hanging with Dan Rather
The blond guy with me is Tom Brokaw.
The Change of Command
Saddam Wear
June 14, 2004
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ARMY!
TOO HOT FOR ARIZONA CONVICTS
It's even hotter than usual in Phoenix, 116 degrees sets a new record, the Associated Press reports:
About 2,000 inmates living in a barbed-wire-surrounded tent encampment at the Maricopa County Jail have been given permission to strip down to their government-issued pink boxer shorts.
On Wednesday, hundreds of men wearing boxers were either curled up on their bunk beds or chatted in the tents, which reached 138 degrees inside the week before. Many were also swathed in wet, pink towels as sweat collected on their chests and dripped down to their pink socks.
"It feels like we are in a furnace," said James Zanzo't, an inmate who has lived in the tents for 1 1/2 years. "It's inhumane."
Joe Arpaio, the tough-guy sheriff who created the tent city and long ago started making his prisoners wear pink, and eat bologna sandwiches, is not one bit sympathetic.
He said Wednesday that he told all of the inmates: "It's 128 degrees in Iraq and our soldiers are living in tents too, and they didn't commit any crimes, so shut your damned mouths. "
YA GOTTA LOVE THIS SHERIFF...
I was so pleased to hear today that it was only getting to 108 degrees. Am I acclimated or what! My new motto: Sweat is Good!
Last week I spend four glorious dates in Kuwait with my (once removed) sister-in-law Figen and her beautiful family. I drank iced coffee lattes, bought books, jewelry, swam in the Persian Gulf and slept. I had wonderful hosts. I learned more in one evening about Arab culture than 5 months here due to the security situation. It was especially fascinating because Figen is Turkish and therefore can shed light on some of the differences. Muhammed, her husband, is a very smart, high-ranking banker and was pleased to share his thoughts on Islam, the occupation of Iraq, the history of Kuwait. My nieces and nephew, all teenagers, were engaging. They aren’t your typical Kuwaiti teenager because they have traveled to Turkey and England. I gave my nephew Achmed a colonel’s bird for his baseball cap and you would have thought I had handed him the key to a treasure chest. Please see the pictures below. What was fascinating is that the young men and women besides going to separate schools, have separate family rooms for when friends come over. The girls hang out in one area of the house and the boys in another. Another interesting thing is that there is a ton of money, no alchohol, and the big social event is for boys to go cruising in their Lamborghinis, Mercedes, BMWs and the girls in theirs and they pass cell phone numbers from car window to window. It’s American Graffiti but with much better cars. Kuwait is very international with about every type of culture, tribe, ethnic group there. It was fascinating. I bought a small gold ring as I watched Bedouin women dressed in black from head to toe buying large, heavy pieces of gold jewelry. The gold prices are great. I spent more on books than I did on my ring!
Figen shared with me what it was like to spend 7 months under Iraqi occupation. As she told me the horrors of living in Kuwait under the occupation, I realized that if we had not had the first war, Saddam may have been impossible to stop with the oil under his total control. The men who did terrible things to the Kuwaitis, especially the Kuwaiti women are very similar to the men we are fighting. As people get upset about Abu Ghraib, one thing that should never be forgotten: these are men who have murdered Americans and would continue to murder Americans if given the opportunity.
Crisis de jour seems to be my motto this week. It’s been very hard to be forward leading when old incidents from the war keep popping up. The challenge is that everyone here during the war has gone home, so we don’t have the institutional knowledge nor the document. You’ll spot my name in some unflattering stories. War is hell….
I’m off to Babylon today. It’s business but I’m jazzed. I will see the hanging gardens (translation should have been overhanging gardens), the Tower of Babel, the Ishtar Gate. I will be there with English, Polish and Iraqi archeologists. It should be a fascinating day.
In two days time, I’m managing an event where several hundred of our Soldiers, Sailors, Marines and Airmen get to see and hear the President speaking from the States to us and Afghanistan. The technological challenge is something else!
Violence continues. I missed the bombing of the Republican Palace by 5 minutes. It struck where the smokers usually are – but fortunately no one was there. See, smoking can kill! I awoke the morning after my return from Kuwait to explosions. It turned out bad guys had attacked out front gate which is only a kilometer away but no one was hurt.
Finally, I have been involved in helping the Iraqi Ministry of Defense create a public affairs office, public affairs plan and embed media with the Iraqi Armed Forces. Now, that is a new item for the resume!
Everyone take care,
Keep your prayers coming, all prayers accepted!
GI Jill
Here is a child waving thanks for getting his first pair of shoes from some
American soldiers.
This is a great guy - my nephew Achmed.
This is my wonderful hostess in Kuwait -- Figen
June 1, 2004
Dear Everyone,
We managed to celebrate Memorial Day solemnly without
losing any Soldiers, Sailors, Marines, Airmen or Coastguardsmen.
We had two
events. At the First Calvary Division, they dedicated a post office after a
young woman who died as she did her duty delivering mail. Specialist Frances
Vega was a beautiful young Hispanic woman with the most engaging smile. She was
a military brat whose parents are from Puerto Rico. She is survived by her
husband Private Vega. She was in a Chinook helicopter that was shot down. She
died too young. Mail is the so vital to us but no one wants to lose a Soldier
over it.
Our second event was a ceremony in the Rotunda with LTG Sanchez, myself, a Chaplain, a British General Officer as bagpiper and a Specialist as bugler. I’ve included my words below. I received a compliment from a New York Times reporter that the beginning of my speech was poetic. If you know me, you know this is what I love to do. I am honored I was the MC in Iraq for the Multinational Forces. The British General played a beautiful rendition of Amazing Grace just out of sight. I got choked up as I remembered my father, a Vietnam Veteran, who loved Amazing Grace on bagpipes. He survived the Vietnam War but he knew too many names of the Wall. During the minute of silence, I reflected on Dad, how much he taught me to be a leader, and how I know he still watches over me.
During the ceremony, as we honored the more than 800 who have died here and all who have died in American conflicts, the bugle mournfully played taps and the lights were lowered in the rotunda to give it a sense of dusk to night. As the lights went down, and all you could see was our little memorial in the middle with the helmet, boots, rifle and dog tags of a fallen soldier, chills ran through my body.
Below is the text of my speech:
General Sanchez, General Amr Bakr, General Metz, general officers, Iraqi and Coalition guests, and fellow Soldiers, Sailors, Marines, Airmen and Coastguardsmen, welcome to our day of remembrance. As Americans we take the time to remember our fallen brothers and sisters. We remember not only our friends and comrades who served alongside us in Iraq and Afghanistan and other parts of the world, but also those brave Americans from generations past whose service secured our liberty.
Let me explain to you the symbolism before us. The American flag stands alone today in honor of the ultimate sacrifice American men and women have paid in the name of liberty. We train together, we fight together, but we die alone.
We honor and remember over 800 fallen comrades with the display of soldier’s tools.
These tools would not be seen in a church or mosque or synagogue. This is a scene normally reserved for a battlefield.
On the battlefield, when the sounds have faded, the fog of war has dispersed, and the battle is done, the warrior must honor and respect the one who fought the good fight, his last fight.
The soldier’s tools of battle are simple and basically remain unchanged through the years.
The boots of our comrade: The boots carried him so many miles. Boots carried him through times of joy and pain. The boots carried him to his final resting place.
The rifle symbolizes the firepower of the individual soldier, the burden, the savior, and the ultimate weapon to win, to survive. The bayonet is fixed; it is in place for the final fight. Today, it symbolically penetrates the sacred soil of the warrior’s resting place. No more will this awesome tool be used to take a life, but now it marks the resting place of this dear comrade.
Upon the rifle rests the Kevlar pot helmet, that protector of life, that gear so valuable and yet so cumbersome. Today it is transformed into a memorial, not marble or granite but yet a memorial.
Who lies here? What Soldier, Sailor, Marine, Airman or Coastguardsman has fallen? The dog tags on the rifle will tell us who our comrade is.
Now we know our comrade’s battle is done. His tools of battle are here. He would never leave them until his battle was done. Rest our comrade. Let us not forget.
Please rise for the invocation by Chaplain Mims.
Please take your seats.
At this time, I invite LTG Sanchez to share his thoughts on this Memorial Day.
Thank you, Sir, for those deeply moving words.
Now a reflection through music: Amazing Grace.
Let us now take a minute to reflect on what it means to be an freedom fighter and to honor those people who died yesterday for our freedoms.
At every military funeral, Taps is played to mark the end of the day of a great American. Please rise for the playing of Taps by Specialist Samuel Salinas of the First Cav.
Thank you for taking the time to remember our band of brothers and sisters who gave their lives so that we may stay free and others may have freedom. This concludes our program.
God bless you.
May 27, 2004
Dear Everyone,
Oops – I need a disclaimer for my website but my lawyer hasn’t sent me one yet. So here it goes: GI Jill in Baghdad is not an official DOD, DA, MNF-I or any other alphabetic acronym site. It is solely my point of view, my experience, my ground truth, and nobody else’s because there ain’t no other 50-year-old Chicago female alabaster white strawberry blonde Public Affairs Officer in Iraq. I swear to God.
Now, that we have satisfied the lawyers…I have made the move from Baghdad to Camp Victory. I have moved from the Republican Palace to the Water Palace: so much more my style! Actually, we are preparing for the State Department to arrive shortly and the American Mission will be the largest one overseas and they are moving into the Republican Palace until their embassy is built. Therefore, the military is moving 13 km outside of B-town. It also fits our plans of a less American presence in the big cities as the Iraqis start to take control.
Some pluses and minuses out to the move out here. Plus, I get my own trailer – it is the white one near the Bat Tower. Minus: it isn’t near a pool. Plus, I live near the bat tower and they like to munch on mosquitoes. Minus, the mosquitoes like to munch on me and leave ugly itchy welts. Plus, the air conditioner in the trailer works. Minus, it reached 116 degrees today so summer will soon be here. Eek for the white alabaster skin. Plus, the food is so much better here. Minus: the gym is teeny tiny- with only four jogging machines for thousands of soldiers – anybody see a problem with great food, teeny tiny gym? Plus, the palace is lovely and roomy and I get my own office. See the picture. See the view from our office balcony! Minus, I haven’t found a cigar night or Colonel Bubba group yet. Plus, great security exists at Camp Victory (unlike the Green Zone where an Improvised Explosive Device was found at the Convention Center today). Minus, too much security or: how to piss off a Colonel at 0545 hours when she shows up at the Water Palace in PT clothes after working out at the teeny tiny gym because that is the only time besides the middle of the night to get a machine and she left her uniform in her office to save time so that she can do the 0630 briefing to the Commanding General but Noooooooo, she can’t come in because bad guys are buying PT clothes and trying to sneak on bases, so no one in PT clothes may enter the Palace even though the good Colonel has three, count them three, military ID cards and is strawberry blonde and has skin the color of alabaster, and looks nothing like Zarqawi or Al Sadr, and therefore demands, “Write me up, escort me in, but let me in NOW!” I finally won because two other officers in desert U’s showed up and they hadn’t heard of the new rule either and they weren’t leaving until I was let in. Teamwork is great! I had to hurry in to dress and prepare for the briefing while the Marine Major stayed at the gate to remind the guard that regardless of the rule, he still salutes a colonel – pt clothes aside. Thanks for letting me vent!
Someone said to me today that public affairs personnel are really earning their money with all the news about Iraq. I answered, “Yes, but I don’t think we’re going to get any bonuses.” You’ve seen the news. This peace has been so fragile. And now with sovereignty coming rapidly upon us, violence is escalating. We are having more suicide car bombers, more attack on government officials, more attack on convoys moving essential supplies for the nation. I just don’t get the suicide bombers. Especially after watching the Al Qaida training tape where the Dad is beaming proudly because his son is wearing explosives. I really don’t get it.
I have to convoy more as I go between the Green Zone and Camp Victory. I have a great Brit driver, Niel. He drives like the proverbial bat out of hell and keeps me safe. I sit shot gun with my weapon loaded, cocked, round in the chamber checking rooftops, bridges, garbage on the road, cars coming too close, etc. No time to read or nap in the car!
But there is still good news. Our Soldiers and Marines keep reaching out to the Iraqi people. You know about the bad stuff about Fallujah but there are positive things too.
Staff
Sgt. Rodney L. Pfeifer, a Marine motor transportation mechanic, speaks to an
Iraqi child during a visit to a village near Fallujah in the Al Anbar province
of Iraq April 22, 2004. Members of the battalion made the visit to the village
to provide the children shoes and school supplies, as well as give them basic
medical check-ups. The shoes and school supplies were donated by friends and
family members of the battalion's Marines and sailors. The battalion provides
security for the 1st Force Service Support Group at Camp Taqaddum, Iraq, and has
conducted several visits to surrounding communities in hopes of building a
positive rapport with the local population.
On
the same visit, Navy Petty Officer 3rd Class Stanley M. Duing, gives a check-up
to an Iraqi child, who is complaining of a sore throat.
For Memorial Day, I was asked by Woodlawn Cemetery to send a letter. Here is what I sent:
Woodlawn Cemetery
Dear Memorial Day Participants,
Ladies and Gentlemen: Over the years at this ceremony, you have watch me go from Major to Lieutenant Colonel to Colonel, serving in Forest Park to Bosnia to Waukegan to Baghdad, from Battalion Commander to Deputy Chief of Staff to Brigade Commander. You, more than any other community, have watched me grow as a military member of our great nation. You have always made me feel special. Today, I serve in Baghdad, and I never forget that it is American Communities like ours that I serve, so I strive to serve with honor and duty to you, to America, and to God.
After the horrible day of September 11th in 2001, I entered North Elementary School in Des Plaines to pick up my daughter. I was in my uniform. What happened that day almost made me cry. Children saw me and lined up to get my autograph. Kids missed the school bus to talk to me. Teachers and parents thanked me for protecting them. I almost cried that day because when I entered the military during the Vietnam War, I never expected to be treated like a hero. I was simply a patriot.
Today, you have taken your precious time to remember others who never expected to be heroes, just patriots. The children of Illinois served with honor in world wars and peace campaigns. They serve with honor in Afghanistan, Iraq, Kosovo, Bosnia, Africa, Asia and the Americas. They are patriots and they are heroes. Today, we honor many, too many, fallen heroes from Illinois. We honor today the ones who died for us because they answered our nation’s call.
Thank you for taking the time to remember our band of brothers and sisters who gave their lives so that we may stay free and others may have freedom.
God bless you and bless our great nation!
Sincerely,
Colonel Jill Morgenthaler
Finally, from the point of a fifty-year-old alabaster-skinned strawberry blonde gun-toting American lass, as terrible as the news can be, there is still beauty to be found. Enjoy the sunrise picture I took the other day.
Have a great weekend.
Never forget – freedom isn’t free.
Keep the prayers coming.
GI Jill
May 22, 2004
Hey, Everyone,
Things are quiet right now. We begin the countdown to sovereignty for Iraq. Good things are happening. The Reserve unit that has received so much bad press has done good things. Here’s one of their stories:
Men, women of the 372nd are also
the good guys.
JAMES RADA
Times-News Staff Writer
CUMBERLAND: What would you call a man who jumped into a creek to help people
caught inside a truck that had rolled there? What would you call a group that
helped build a center to enable women to become successfully independent? What
would you call a group that made an entire city feel safer? Would you call them
heroes? Civic activists? Friends? Lately, these people have been called sadists,
monsters and criminals. That’s because the good deeds and good work done by the
372nd Army Reserve Unit have been forgotten and tarnished by the alleged
misdeeds of a few. Sgt. Roger Plummer of Ridgeley, W.Va., served in Iraq
from June 2003 to January 2004. He knows the men and women of the 372nd because
he has lived with them, fought with them and worked with them. Al Hilla was
named one of the safest cities in Iraq because of the work done by the 372nd
police,” said Plummer.
The Coalition Provisional Authority recognized the South Central Region of Iraq
as progressing faster than any other unit, in part, because of the work done by
Plummer and his fellow reservists. Our personalities really helped us with
that city, said Plummer. He said that when the 372nd was in charge of security
there, the city had been safe and the Iraqi police department had been an open
place where Iraqis knew they could come to get help. “We were open and the
people felt comfortable with us, said Plummer. Then the 372nd was sent to do
other work and the replacement unit came in and turned the police department
into a “fortress. And that’s when all the trouble started when we closed
ourselves off from them, said Plummer. Plummer was part of a group of 372nd
soldiers that was helping train an Iraqi boxing team to qualify for the Olympics
as a way to restore national pride. When a truck went off the road and into a
creek, it was a member of the 372nd who dove into the water and began pulling
Iraqis out of the truck. He gave one old guy CPR for 20 minutes trying to save
him, said Plummer. The 372nd also held police academies for Iraqi policemen who
had little or no training. Plummer said that during the four months his platoon
was assigned to the Coalition Provisional Authority it participated in the
following projects:
• 8 women’s rights centers were built
• 6 schools were built or remodeled
• 6 youth centers were built
• 4 hydroelectric turbines were repaired
• 2 universities were built or remodeled
• 2 democracy centers were built
• 2 water filtration plants were rebuilt
• 1 airfield was built
“I couldn’t tell you how many miles of road I saw paved. I saw electrical lines
run into cities that didn’t have power,” added Plummer. The construction was
performed by Iraqi contractors who bid on the jobs. They were paid from money
that had been confiscated from Saddam Hussein. The 372nd also did little
things, too, like making sure students had plenty of paper, pencils and
erasers. All of this was not easy for members of the 372nd, either. They were
shot at with bullets and rockets. Some members survived car bomb blasts. They
endured this because they felt it was the right thing to do. They
could see the progress being made with the people, according to Plummer. He
wants people to know of all the good work his unit did, and is still doing, in
Iraq. James Rada can be reached at
jrada@times-news.com
The icky things of summer are starting to show up. These tiny gnats get into the trailer and like to crawl all over me, especially when I’m sleeping. I am the proverbial princess on the pea and keep waking up. In the morning there are teeny tiny carcasses all over the floor. I was informed that I need to keep the air conditioning on ultra cold high blast. The little critters are too cold then to open their wings and fly. They quickly die. I get to sleep with my sleeping bag and blanket over me but at least in peace. I still have the carcasses to sweep out at least twice a day but they’re no longer getting into bed with me.
As my time starts to wind down, I am hoping to visit my sister-in-law’s sister-in-law, Figen, in Kuwait. Figen lived in the US and we met once. Since coming here we have become pen pals and she sends me great cartoons and humor. I hope to visit her and her family in June. It’ll be great to get out of the uniform and be among the people instead on a military base.
It’s strange to realize that after we had over sovereignty, that I will have just 2 weeks left. But I have to stay alert. The other day my convoy was returning from Victory. The NCO felt uncomfortable because we didn’t have a 50 mm machine gun. He asked if we could join another convoy that was waiting to travel with the bus in from the airfield. I believe in going with your instincts and his were to fit in with this group. So, we waited 15 minutes and headed out with them. It was a good thing, There turned out to have been a car bomb waiting up ahead. The 15 minute delay kept us away from there and we took an alternative route which my troops would not have known how to do. Go with your gut!
Gotta go but I just wanted to share a few things with you. Happy Memorial Day next weekend!
Keep your prayers coming,
GI Jill
