September 11

The dust kicked up again yesterday. All morning and into the early afternoon the weather was clear. It was still hot, but the sky was a clear blue. By mid afternoon the light breeze crossed some arbitrary threshold to become wind, and the powdered sugar-like sand took flight. By 4 PM the sun could be distinguished only by being a lighter shade of brown. A short walk to the latrine caked your teeth with grit and sandblasted your eyes. The filters on the air conditioners are an insufficient barrier to such fine particles, so dust inflamed my sinuses and settled into my lungs. I developed a cough that I simply couldn't wash away with the omnipresent bottled water.

The temperature is starting to be tolerable in the mornings. It still climbs above 100 during the day, but the cooler mornings are spawning clusters of soldiers who are weaning themselves from the air conditioned comfort of the gyms and exercising outdoors. Nonetheless, it is unfortunate that the A/C in our truck couldn't wait a couple of more months before giving up the ghost. It never really worked too great; only sufficient to just take the edge off the heat in the vehicle. However, without it the interior of the truck becomes quite intolerable. Hopefully, we won't have to run too many more missions before we get the darn thing repaired.

Last night I was fortunate enough to be able to listen to Gen. Petraeus and Ambassador Crocker testify before congress thanks to streaming audio from C-SPAN's website. I find it very reassuring that such a highly respected military authority will finally have an opportunity to personally look our political leadership in the eye and absorb the polished posturing demagoguery that congress is so adept at producing. After all, I cannot think of a better way for the General to get a clearer picture of the conditions in Iraq than by getting lectured to in a hearing room on Capitol Hill. That said, from what transferred from headphones to head before I drifted off to sleep, the General's description of conditions in Iraq essentially conforms to my own personal observations.

This morning my interpreter reminded me that today is September 11. Six years ago on this day I was driving to work at Hewlett-Packard listening to the local morning A.M. radio talk show. The radio personalities were clearly flustered, and were actually telling people to leave their radio, and find a television because they were at a loss to describe what they were obviously watching in the studio. When I go to work, most of my colleagues were not aware that anything of any significance had occurred. Over the course of the morning, however, work slowly ground to a halt, and some televisions were brought in, some with makeshift aluminum foil antennae. A product demonstration room featuring a large 50" plasma TV filled with people as we all watched events unfold in the comfort of a mock-up high-end living room.

As a direct consequence of that day, I find myself in Baghdad this morning listening to a woman struggle to control her voice as tears streamed down her cheeks. She is Sunni, and her husband is sitting somewhere with a Shia bullet in him. She is afraid to take him to the hospital because the hospitals are monitored by the Shia militias. She is afraid to give us her name or any useful information. All we can do is give her the phone number of an international aid agency. Next to her stands one of her sons, about 12 years old. His face is expressionless. This is a scene that is all too familiar. While there is no question that conditions are improving, sectarian violence has created a massive internal refugee problem. In a culture that places high value on revenge and honor, this will be one of the most daunting problems that the Iraqi government will have to tackle if and when it gets its act together.

I've been all over the map on this posting, but I wanted to end on a humorous note. I took this photo while we were on a recent mission. The normal radio chatter was suddenly interrupted by an emphatic voice from the lead vehicle in the convoy. "Whoa! Those chicks are HOT!" There is no question that as they passed by the windows on the left side of the convoy, all of al Qaeda could have approached from our right, hammered bombs to the side of our trucks, and nobody would have noticed.