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Letter No. 12: Birth of a new Iraq had its difficulties,
but the child has a bright future
By
David J. Jenkins, USU class of '98
February 2, 2005 | Hello
everyone, Greetings from Baghdad . . .
The last couple of weeks
have been intense, strange, interesting and exciting.
We have been honored with being a part of a historical
event, and helping smooth along the creation of a free
Iraq. The seed has been planted and it may take time
to take root and grow, but the process has begun.
With the elections past and a new cabinet in place here
in Iraq, the question is, "Are the troops going
to come home?" The answer to that is yes . . .
and no.
Yes, we of the 1st Cavalry Division, 39th Brigade Regiment
and 2nd Battalion, 162nd Infantry will be coming home.
Our rotation is coming to a close and we are making
preparations for the transition back to our "regular"
life, whatever that may be.
And, no. The role of the United States, in my lower-enlisted
opinion, is much too important to pick up and leave.
Would a parent up and move out because his or her child
took first steps? I don't think so. This is the time
to begin child-proofing the home and get ready to begin
the process of developmental learning. Child development
is not about ages, but stages. And, Iraq has just passed
a new birth. The excrescence of dictatorship has been
removed and a new developmental process has begun.
The U.S. Army may have a presence in Iraq for five,
10, maybe 20 years. The odds are that although the Oregon
Army National Guard is leaving in the coming months,
we shall return, like many of the units before us.
I had the opportunity to meet three soldiers at the
Baghdad International Airport Base today. When asked
how long they have been in Iraq, there response was,
"one day." The thoughts of 11 months of missions
came rushing back to me, and I couldn't help but to
cringe. I looked at them and simply replied, "Well
then, welcome to Baghdad."
These soldiers are with the 82nd Airborne out of Fort
Bragg. Active duty soldiers who are carrying the weight
of a prestigious past for a highly decorated unit. Although
they just arrived in country yesterday, this is not
their first stint in Baghdad. Nor, will it be their
last.
With the elections behind us, we were able to take a
little time yesterday to unwind and get caught up on
personal matters. I took the morning to continue packing
and prepare for a move in the coming week. No details
as of yet to when that will be, or to where.
Having completed all that I could, I met with SPC Cole
and we decided to walk to chow. Cole is an extraordinary
individual with an incredibly strong faith. He is my
closest friend here, and knowing him has made me a better
person.
Cole is our platoon medic and is an EMT (Emergency Medical
Technician) for a fire department back in Oregon. He
is also a volunteer fireman. His greatest joy is in
helping others.
We made our way to the chow hall, and upon entering,
made our way to the main line: rice, chicken, vegetables
and of course a large helping of flan (it wouldn't be
dinner without it). Cole stopped at the bread line while
I located a table and found seats. The setup is cafeteria
style with long tables and a dozen chairs on either
side. I sat facing the serving line and watched as Cole
dropped two slices of bread into the conveyor-type toaster.
The two slices of wheat bread disappearing into the
furnace.
I commenced to eating and a few moments later Cole sat
across from me, his back to the serving line. As he
began eating I noticed that he was eating an open-faced
sandwich.
"What happened to
the other slice of toast?" I asked.
"I don't know,"
he says, "it just disappeared." I conjectured
that it must have gone to the same place as the socks
that miraculously disappear from the dryer back home.
We sat talking, and a smell began to overwhelm us. Something
was burning. I looked up in time to see the black smoke
billowing from the conveyor toaster. My eyes grew wide
as I watched the chow hall employee running for the
machine. Cole, without turning around, sheepishly peered
up at me as the machine burst into flames. He never
had to turn around to know what had happened.
We both began to chuckle silently as we both sat there
thinking, "Nice job, Mr. Fireman."
Best wishes,
David J. Jenkins
Click
for Letter No. 1 and a photo of David J. Jenkins
Click
for Letter No. 2
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for Letter No. 3
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for Letter No. 4
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for Letter No. 5
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for Letter No. 6
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for Letter No. 7
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8
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9
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10
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11
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