Tag: helicopters

The Hueys we flew in today were the same ones they used in Vietnam.  They are small and very maneuverable.  I was a little afraid I would fall out.  My brain knew that the chances were small.  I knew and felt that when the helicopter banks, you are pushed down into the seats, not out of the helicopter.  My body didn’t believe it, however.  When my brain instructed my hand to let go of the seat to take a picture, my hand didn’t always get the word, so I missed some cool bank shots.  In defense of my fortitude, take a look at my seat.  You may be able to understand my dilemma.

We were doing reconnaissance of the battle space with the Marines and an Iraqi colonel.  They understood the terrain much better than I did.  I was glad that I got to go along.  When they pointed out the important features, I could understand the logic, but I admit that I was mostly thrilled by the views and the adventure.   

Above is Lake Tharthar.  The little ripples are birds flying off the water.  It was like watching a nature show.  Below is an isolated farm.

Flying in the Huey gave me greater appreciation for the courage of the men who served in Vietnam.  I could hardly imagine flying this platform into a battle where committed guys on the ground were shooting at you.  The Vietnam Vets deserved a better welcome home than we gave them.

I fly in Ospreys and helicopters around here about as much as I drove in my car back home, so the experience no longer provides many surprises or much excitement.  This time, however, I got to sit in the very last seat of the Osprey.   I was only around four feet from the edge of the open door and a very long drop.  Ospreys take off vertically, but they bank way up and you are pulled out of your seat as it makes sharp maneuvers.  The back of the plane tends to get a more thrilling ride.  I recalled those simulation rides at Universal Studios, but this was real – with real gravity that would have landed me on really hard rocks real far below if I really fell out.   My spidey sense was tingling.

I usually do not pay too much attention to my seatbelt.  This time I checked it twice.

Taking pictures out the back of these things is not easy.  My camera automatically focuses on the objects or people in the foreground and makes the outside an indistinct bright blank, but  I got a couple of decent pictures by using the landscape mode.

This is an unrelated picture, but for animal lovers I thought I would show a working dog.   He smells for bombs.  The dog is the shorter one.  Notice his USMC scarf.

I took the picture earlier.  This is not the helicopter we used today  but I think it is the same kind.

I thought Iraq was a hot country.  Not always.  Today I flew a couple hours in a CH 46.  They have two big windows in the front for the 50 caliber machine guns.  These windows are obviously always open.  The back is open too, so you have a wind tunnel.  The irony is that in hot weather the heat from the engines makes the ordinary unpleasant heat excruciating, but in the cool weather they seem to have no effect.   Still, when I got off I made a point of lingering in the heat wash of the engines.  Usually I run through quick as I can.

Some seats are worse than other.  The seats on the front left are the worst, since they are in the vortex of several wind streams.  Usually I avoid these places, but this time both the colonel and I sat there.  We had Iraqi guests and we thought it best not to freeze them.  Technically, I suppose they would not freeze since the temperature never dropped below 32, but they looked miserable enough shivering with those checkered scarves wrapped around their heads and faces.  For them, this is about as cold as it gets; I have had worse.

Helicopter rides are not pleasant in the best of times.  Continual buffeting by strong and ever shifting winds detracts even more from the experience.  I tried to make the most of it by calibrating differences in wind speed.  For example, as the gunner makes sweeps across the terrain, the wind gets stronger and weaker.  The most wind is blocked when the gun is facing mostly straight out, but a little forward.  The ammunition box blocks some of the wind.  I would not bet that my observations are correct, but making them gave me something to do.  I also confirmed that you really cannot tell by the feel or the noise when a helicopter is landed or flying.  The machine shakes and produces cacophonous noise in both situations and a good pilot can put it down very softly.  You can, however, tell by the wind.  As you descent, you get a reprieve from the wind and a welcome (in the cold times) blast of hot exhaust. Ah the simple pleasures of life!

My flight suit is fire retardant, but does nothing to slow the wind.  In fact, I think it exacerbates the problem, allowing the wind to blow up one sleeve and literally onto the soft underbelly.  I like to complain how tough it is to be me, but the problem is actually easily solved.  I will have to get a face mask and a wind breaking coat.  The young guys aiming those 50 calibers have adapted and not only do they get their wind directly, but they also must keep on facing it.

The picture above is my ride.  They kick us out when they refuel. Good precaution.
It was supposed to be a short trip to Camp Fallujah.  My penultimate big boss, John Negroponte, was coming by to learn a little more about progress in Anbar and PRTs, so everybody figured it was a good idea for me to come down. 

The meeting was very good.  I learned a lot listening to my colleagues and the generals, all of whom have more experience in Iraq than I do, explain how the situation had changed and what we were likely to see in the future.  I made a modest contribution about our own ePRT plans.  That was it. 

I planned to be back in Al Asad before chow.  Unfortunately, as often happens, my flight time was changed leaving me in Fallujah for the whole day.  This is not a bad thing.  I have learned to bring books; my I-Pod and I can usually link on to the military email and keep up with some of my work. 

Beyond that, I have the nicest room I have ever had in Iraq.  I sometimes get treated better since my late promotion.  I feel kind of bad about that, but not bad enough to turn down the special offers.  There is a real bed, real chairs, a real desk and a little refrigerator with Coke.  This evidently was some kind of conference center, so it features a nice conference room and luxurious guest quarters.   You still have to share a bathroom, but it is indoors and not far from the rooms.  The thing I find interesting about the bathroom is that there are ten showers but only two toilets.  While I understand the necessity for cleanliness, most people take only one shower a day, while they tend to use other facilities more often.  That is why I suspect the showers were dual purpose.

Nice as this place is, the delays do make planning difficult.  Still as I was reading my book in preparation to stroll down to the chow hall, I could not feel very aggrieved.   

Fallujah, as you may recall, was the scene of fierce fighting not very long ago.  Just before I came to Iraq, I saw a History Channel program about it.  It made me just a little uneasy about my decision to come to Iraq.   There were actually two battles.  We won both, and  learned the lesson after the second that we needed to do more than win battles. 
The city is actually more of an area than a true city and more of a Baghdad exurb than a part of Anbar.  The American analogy might be Loudon County.  During the Saddam time it was home to lots of Baathists and others who benefited from the regime.  When Saddam fell, lots of people here lost their jobs and pensions.  They were not all bad guys.  There were various shades of grey and many of them had useful skills.  Those were decisions made above my pay grade and before my time, but in hindsight it is likely that we went a little overboard in putting them out of work.  How would it be for us if all the Federal employees in living Loudon County were laid off and/or lost their pensions?  How might they react?

Of course, if we had it all to do over again we would make different mistakes.  It is easy to be smart after you know the outcome.  That is why you meet so many people who theoretically made big money with their past investments but seem to have no money in the real world.

I am in beautiful Baghdad at a conference to discuss what happens when the Marines start to leave.  It is a good thing that they can.  It is a measure of success in Al Anbar that the Iraqi army and police forces can take over big chunks of territory and it has to happen eventually, but it will make life harder for us at the PRTs.  The Marines give me my food, transportation and even my boots.  I need the Marines.

They will not be all gone, but Marine brigades in Al Anbar will be reduced by more than half by this summer, if all goes as planned.  This means fewer helicopters & humvees as well as fewer places to land the helicopter or park the humvee for the night.   Our AO is as big as the State of South Carolina.  It would be hard enough to travel such a big place, but Al Anbar does not have a good road system like the palmetto state and we have significant security concerns on long road trips.  Even absent these problems, I would look forward to driving 12 hours (that is how long it takes to get to Rutbah) through one of the bleakest deserts in the world w/o the prospect of rest stops or gas stations.

That is why we are making plans now.   Actually, I would call it perhaps less planning and more wishing or hoping.  There are a few options and we are already doing some things that make travel less crucial.  For example, we can (and are) sending our people out for longer periods.   They are essentially embedded in a local town for days or weeks.  We also are looking into hiring local employees, as I mentioned in a previous post.  What might end up happening is that we have a HQ at Al Assad, but most of the staff is someplace else most of the time.

Personally I do not need to worry too much.  As long as I am here (until September next year) there will be enough Marines to take care of most of what I need to do.  I will just need a little more planning and trip consolidation.  They would not have given me a new pair of boots anyway.

More challenging, but more interesting is how the PRTs will take over some of what the Marines do in civil affairs.  The Marines have done an excellent job of securing the country and beginning the job of rebuilding (building) those aspects of civil society that help keep the peace.   They are can do kinds of guys and they do the jobs they are given.

But Marines are fundamentally warriors.  Some of them are getting a little nervous that it is too peaceful around here for them to employ their particular talents to the fullest.  We (PRTs) will need to take some of that civil society program over.  Word is that I will get a few more staff members to go with the accretions of responsibility.   Following the Marines, we have some big boots to fill.

That is what it says on the wall near my can.  It is good advice, because it is amazing how quickly things become routine or “normal.”  It struck me today when I was traveling to a reconciliation event (more on that later).   I have included pictures of my rides.  The helicopter is what got me to the base, then we convoyed in.  I rode in that big truck I am standing next to in the picture.  It is called an Mrap.  It gives one the bumpiest rides possible, but supposedly it can withstand most any roadside bomb attack.  The bottom is shaped like the bottom of a boat, so that the force of the explosion is directed outward.

Anyway, at first I was very aware of being around and in these odd machines, but now I do not pay much attention.   I know that there is potential danger, but so far I have neither directly seen nor heard any indications of enemy activity, hence the danger of complacency. 

Al Qaeda threatened to make Ramadan this year very difficult and bloody.   They were unable to carry out this threat, probably because the Marines are rolling them up so effectively and the local population has turned against them.  Now we hear about a post-Ramadan offensive.  Nobody really believes this will happen, hence the danger of complacency. 

Complacency is an interesting concept.  Is it complacent accurately to assess that the threat level is decreased?   Is it complacent to make assessments about the RELATIVE risk of various courses of action?  Not everything can be a top priority. The Marines talk about the tyranny of the single incident.  In this politically charged, CNN image saturated world, one incident can make the policy.  Our convoys, body armor and redundant procedures are designed to avoid that single incident. That very bumpy and expensive Mrap I rode in is another result.

Body armor is very heavy because it includes lots of add-ons, each in anticipation of a particular incident.  (BTW – in the picture I do not have on my usual stuff) We have the front and the back plates, makes sense.  Then we have two side plates and a special groin protection.  There is a throat protector and some people have kind of wings that protect the upper arms.  I even carry a special little hooked knife to cut myself out of tangled straps.  You keep on accreting new responses to specific threats.  Any one of these things might save your life.  I am reminded about what Mark Twain said about stoves, cats and lessons learned. 

And there is a cost.  All this stuff is heavy, bulky and threatening looking to Iraqi civilians.   Beyond that, although Marines are generally excellent marksmen, the armor makes it more difficult for them to hit what they are shooting at since it restricts their movements and vision.  And when we meet a group of friendly Iraqis in their civilian clothes, us wearing our dreadnought armor, what does that say about us and them?

I think it depends on your assessment of risk.  Every one of life’s activities is risky.  Each year nearly 50,000 Americans are killed in automobile accidents.  These are always gruesome and often hit the young and healthy the hardest.   Yet we all continue to drive and we have become very complacent about it.  Forestry in Alaska has an annual death rate of 175 per 10000 workers.  You have a greater chance of death or injury working in the forests of Alaska than serving in Iraq, but when the tree falls on somebody in the woods; it does not make a sound loud enough to for the national media to hear.  I am not saying we should give up the armor or the convoys or the vigilance.   But we should also not be held prisoner to the single occurrence.

I believe the greatest threat to my life is not AQI bombs or insurgent bullets, but simple accidents.  Flying around in helicopters is just a risky business.  I do not think that the armor makes me safer.  On the contrary, it seems to me that if we hit the ground hard, wearing 50lbs of metal would exacerbate the shock and impede a quick escape.   God forbid we land in the river.  I used to be a good swimmer, but I do not think I could handle the drag.  Maybe I am getting complacent, but that is what I think. 

I  was in Ramadi, Camp Blue Diamond.  The CIA called Ramadi the most violent city in the world back in January this year.  Today it is like the rest of Anbar, fairly peaceful. 

BTW – Up top is a picture of the Osprey I describe below. 

Camp Blue Diamond is located on one of Saddam’s old summer camps.  This is the place where the recent war began.  We tried to bomb Saddam in a meeting with some of his leading supporters.  He was not there, but we destroyed a building.  The rest of the complex was left pretty much undamaged.  (Bombs are fairly accurate these days.)  It is green and pleasant.  In fact, everyplace I go is nicer than Al Asad.  It is beginning to dawn on me that my base is perhaps more highly ranked among the dusty sh*t holes of Iraq than I had been led to believe.  But it is my home and I look forward to getting back. 

We share Blue Diamond with our valiant Iraqis allies, or more correctly they share it with us since it is, after all, their country.  We pass them on the road and say saalam.  They all look sort of alike, with their uniforms and mustaches.  Of course we present a much greater variety with our short hair and uniforms.  The Iraqi soldiers appear neat and organized.  It is a good thing, since they will soon be doing most of the security work.  Coalition strength in Anbar will drop by around half, as our troops come home and Iraqi forces take their places.  We are in the process of giving Blue Diamond back to the Iraqis and it is a little sad. It is easy to get a table at the chow hall, since each day fewer people turn up to chow down.  They may close it down entirely just after Thanksgiving.  I understand that they physically dismantle the whole chow hall and move it away.  There is always need for a good chow hall.  On the plus side, the Iraqis will take care of their own business and we will need to do less.  It was interesting today watching some U.S. soldiers trying to teach Iraqis to throw what we call a football.  A few steps away were some Iraqis trying to teach Americans how to kick what they call a football.   It is hard for both sides to learn these new tricks.

We briefed a couple of generals about the PRTs in Anbar, what we need and what we are doing.  They always try to be helpful.  More interesting to me was Eliot Cohen, who came with them as a special advisor to State.  Cohen wrote a book I read a few years ago called “Supreme Command”.   Fortunately, I did not have a chance to talk to him very long.  I find it disappointing to talk to well-know authors, most of whom seem to know LESS than they have written in their books.  I suppose that when writing the books they have ready access to materials and notes.  When they write, it is a sort of open book test, but when you surprise them with questions it is more like a pop-quiz.  Beyond that, many authors are by nature (unsurprisingly) bookish.  The arts of writing ideas and expressing them orally are related but certainly not completely synonymous.

I flew in on the Osprey.  It is the new Marine fixed wing plane that can do a vertical takeoff.  It is a goofy looking thing when it is on the ground, perhaps a better name would be albatross.  Anyway, it is not very comfortable.  You actually have less room to sit than in one of the bigger Chinooks.  It is faster, however, and flies at a higher altitude, so it is less likely to be hit by small arms fire from the ground, which is a plus.   The propellers turn up on takeoff and landing.  A sign on one of he buildings says that the wind from the downdraft can reach 175 mph.  This is important when opening the door to watch the Osprey land or take off.  Evidently the wind took the door off the hinges on at least one occasion.   A sergeant complained the downdraft knocked the satellite dish off his hooch, turning into a taco shaped piece of tin and rendering it unable to receive the porno stations to which he had become accustomed.

Traveling today was a nightmare.  The Osprey came FROM Al Asad to Blue Diamond already full of Marines in full kit.  It then made the backward circle.  They took some of the Marines someplace else and loaded up some cargo and some new Marines.  We all crushed together in the front.  The next stop they took off the cargo and everybody got off except me.  Then a new group came on board, it was not as cramped, but not good.  The flight took more than two hours and combined two of the three biggest phobias people have.   We packed in like sardines (claustrophobia) and at the same time you could see out the rear how high (and tilted) you were (fear of heights).  All they needed do was throw in a couple of snakes and we would have had the fear factor trifecta.  The height doesn’t bother me, although I enjoy the roller coaster motion less as I get older.  I really do not care for the cramped situation.  I admit that I did feel a tinge of claustrophobia when I could not move more than a few inches.

When the general asked about our biggest challenge, I mentioned travel.   It is just hard to get around  and not much fun.   Makes you want to stay at home.