My truth was ...

Let me start off by saying which was my truth I posted a few weeks back.  The truth was #4; I did drive through the town of Fallujah while deployed to the Middle East in 2004.  This happened in the very beginning of my tour. 

   When asked the question on how my semester is going I have to say, unexpectedly difficult.  The course isn’t hard when one has the time to do all the work.  I don’t because of my full time job I presently have.  See I work for the federal government and presently we are in a “Sequestration”.  This has placed an added burden on me and the position I hold.  I am now doing the work that once took three people.  I find myself doing and making “PowerPoint” presentations for meetings and briefings.  Since this is my career I have to except the work and make it happen, my yearly review and bonuses hinge on my performance. 

   The atmosphere at school is great and it’s a welcome change from the daily norm I have at the airport.  The challenges I face are starting to show and it is increasing on a weekly basis.  Not being able to leave work on time has affected my commute from Santa Barbara to Oxnard.  Once I finally complete my daily assignments I rush out of the airport and head back to the 805.  The way things are going for me right now are not good but I’m trying to find that balance between work and school. 

   My career is taking all my focus away from school and with a five month old daughter at home balance is rough.  It’s going to be a long road for me but I’ve almost going to have to realize that I might have to take this class over again.  The choice isn’t mine but the struggle is weighing on my shoulders harder than I imagined.  No one plans on work consuming ones daily life and that’s what is happening to me.  I won’t quit but I will try my hardest and someday in the near future all these struggles will be another distant memory of hurdles that I accomplished.   

 

5 lies and 1 truth

5 lies and 1 truth

 

1. I have an identical twin brother with long hair.

2. I joined the Marines when I turn 22 because of the commercial.

3. At the age of 16 worked at Golf n Stuff and got fired for giving out rides for free.

4. While in Iraq in 2004 I actually drove through the town of Fallujah once.

5. My child was student of the month for 3 months straight.

6. I truly enjoy doing all my homework.

My family

My Family

 

     My mother is still alive but I have spoken to my father for close to 10 years.  The last time I did was in December of 2003, right before my deployment to Iraq.  It really surprises me that he has made no contact with me since both of my tours to the Middle East.  How can my father forget about his oldest son who followed his footsteps?

     I was about 4 or 5 years old when my father was stationed in Frankfurt, Germany.  The visions of seeing the 1^st Armored Division patch are still painted in my mind.  That multi colored triangle with the tank tracks running through middle was always present in my household.  It was a great time to be an only child because of the constant attention.  I still remember whenever my father was going out to the field to do training maneuvers.  My mother made it a point to hide little reminders of us in his personal bag.  I guess to let him know what was waiting for him when he returned.  Everything seemed great and I was having the time of my young life; I can only assume that by all the pictures my parents took of us in various parts of Europe during my father’s stay in active duty. 

     I guess that’s why it’s odd to me that we haven’t talked since that December day of 2003.  After all those letters, notes, pictures and cards I left him when I was young maybe he would at least pick up a phone.   I mean my mother, kids, aunts and uncles emailed often just to see how I was doing during those tours.  I even received care packages on a bi-weekly basis from friends and church members that worried about my welfare.  I thought that I would have been lucky to have been raised by both my mother and father.  Two loving parents are better than one but in my case I realized that I don’t need him.  In fact it only has helped me to be a better father.  If I feel like this right now has an adult I can only imagine how my children will fill in their young age.  I won’t fail them like I’ve been failed by my father.  The first of the five combat patches I earned during my deployments is a constant reminder of my father.  It was the one that I admired and was raised on while in Germany.  The name on the patch was “Old Ironsides” and it stood for the 1^st Armored Division.  Its funny how things can come full circle but then again they always do.        

 

"Why I Celebrate April 9th"

     The daylight sun is coming across the horizon over the once abandoned Iraqi airbase.  Opening my eyes and now smelling the early morning stench of oil, sweat and dirt. The sound of footsteps going up and down the aisle. Grunts and groans are being heard and disturbing those from their slumber. There are voices in the background that tell of the duties that will lie for soldiers. Missions being spoken by superiors that speak of what needs to be accomplished for the day. This isn’t home but its home for the next ten months. My home is called Camp Taji, Iraq and today is April 9^th, 2004.

     I am truck driver for the 1072^nd PLS (Palletized Load System) Truck Company based out of Fresno, CA. I’ve been with the unit for four months and today is my first mission outside the wire (Outside of base camp). Excitement for the day that lies ahead of is coursing through my body. This is day I’ve waiting for ever since I joined the military in August of 1995. Close to ten years of training has brought me to this a day I’m ready for whatever waits me and my co-driver. I gather my gear for and head towards the motor pool. This walk is something I’ve done numerous times before. I begin to run the pre-system checks on my PLS truck. Here I am in the rising of the sun checking the outside for any damage, looking at my tires for any cracks or low pressure. Crawling underneath my vehicle to see any pools of oil on the floor or fluid leaking from the truck. My pre-system check manual tells me to enter the cabin and turn my truck on. The smoke from the exhaust fills the air and the roar of my engine deafens my ears. Gauges and panels lights tell me that I’m ready for the mission ahead. Its only 0600 (6am) hours and I have to be staged and ready to go at 0800 (8am) hours, I decide breakfast is in order.

     Heading to the main chow hall on post is a short walk but it always has a long line. I see my co-driver and cut in line. He has already been on a few missions and gave me the low down on what were about to do. Specialist Nicholas or what everyone else calls him “Nick” is an athletic older man who has I’ve known since 1999 when I first joined the California National Guard. We had a good connection and since he operated fully automatic machine gun I was put at ease that we were rolling out together. While in line he explained to me that we need to stock up on snack here because we never know what might happen on the road. He made a good point and with that soda, sealed pastries and red bulls entered my pockets. We exited the chow hall and headed back to motor pool to line up our vehicles. Nick and I loaded up our truck with our overnight backpacks, ice chest and weapon systems. Helping Nick with the 5 ammo cans that contained 200 rounds each seemed a bit much but that’s was his typical battle load. He always was over prepared and with that always seeking action. After being packed and loading we both head out to the staging area outside the motor pool.

     The staging area is an open field 1 mile outside of the main gate. This allows all the vehicles to be lined up and outside the gate in less the 5 minutes. As I’m slowing driving up the assistant convoy commander tell me to hold on because I’m going to be the 2^nd to the last truck in the convoy. After hearing that I felt like the kid that was being picked last on a kickball team. I wasn’t good enough to be out front? But I understood, I’m a rookie right now and I haven’t seen the outside yet. Nick told me it’s nothing to be ashamed about, if anything is a good thing because we have a gun truck behind us. It only provides my security for us. He made a good point and plus it’s not like anything is going to happen to us. Not one of our convoys has been hit since we started running convoys back in February of 2004. Plus it’s a simple overnighter to Camp Al-Asaad (110 miles to the west of Baghdad) which was 150 miles to the west of Camp Cooke (Taji, Iraq is 35 miles north of Baghdad). After finally being staged our convoy safety briefing began and I paid close attention. My eyes and ears gained the full attention of what I was about to embark on. Our company commander was a Sergeant First Class by the name of Chapman.  He explained how many trucks were heading out (13 total) what the local threat levels for our route and what to expect.  Nick made it sound like it was the same old song and dance so don’t worry.  He told me to just focus on the trucks ahead and let him worry about any hostel contact.  The briefing ended and like that it was 0800 hours and we were off. 

     As we exited the gate and on to the MSR (Main Supply Route) I noticed how close all the locals and their vehicle were to us on these roads.  Children outside the gate yelling and screaming at every truck so that hopefully the will get one of our prepackaged meals to eat.  We begin the turn onto the main road with our foot to the gas and our eyes to the environment.  Our lead vehicles cleared the path on the roads for us and we passed civilian car after car because we owned the roads we were on.  It was a great feeling knowing that the road belong to me and that any vehicle coming our way had to move or we would me them.  Throwing water bottle or flashing our automatic weapons in the way would insure their cooperation.  Twenty minutes into our trip I hear over the radio that we reached Baghdad and to make the hard turn right on to MSR Sword.  From the distance I see each truck turning onto the MSR and it was an awesome sight.  All of this was happening, truck after truck turning in unison onto the road.  We had 110 mile left make our way to Al-Asaad from Baghdad.  From my truck it was looking like such an intimidating convoy.  I wouldn’t even want to cross our path.  While on this MSR I noticed the buildings that were hit during the previous months.  Huge holes on the sides of the roads from either mortar fire or improvised explosive devices.  One whole that caught my eye was big enough to put a mid-sized car in.  Nick made just of my amazement and told me that I haven’t seen anything yet.  He had been on this road numerous times and knew what was ahead.  While driving down the road a ways there it was a completely destroyed building.  If you didn’t pay attention you would have thought it was just some empty lot.  The foot long holes on the surrounding buildings gave evidence of a firefight.  Over the loud noise of my engine he explained that it used to be an insurgent hangout and that the 1^st Calvary raided it and took it down.  We continued on our way and I couldn’t help but be in awe of what I was doing.  I was finally on the road during the war and loving it.  It made all the years of training worth it, I had finally seen what I thought at the time to be combat.  This is what it was all about and now I can call myself a Veteran.  The moment would be short lived for what was to come would test me mentally, physically and emotionally. 

     After passing the raided building I noticed a plume of smoke in the distance.  My inexperience came in to plan and I quickly grabbed my brand new 2 mega-pixel Kodak camera.  Nick had a better vantage point and told me it was a vehicle that seemed to be disabled.  Has we approached a voice came over the radio.  “Be on alert guys, it’s a civilian truck on fire” sounded over my speaker.  Perfect, it’ll be my first war story I can talk about.  While I was driving I began to turn on my new camera and take pictures has we began to approach.  The truck seemed to be a fueler and it was in bad shape.  The radio again goes on and says “Keep your eyes on guys”.  Nick and “Audry” (He named his automatic rifle after his girlfriend) were ready but I was feeling like Ansel Adams at that time.  As we were passing the flaming truck the lead truck in our convoy was approaching a village to the right.  We were a long convoy so I couldn’t notice what was in front of us.  Then it began, “Contact Right”!!! (Over the radio), my worse fear and what I’ve always wanted to be in began.

     The sounds of automatic fire engulf the air, civilians in the area were scattering, and here I was unable to do nothing but drive.  Since all the contact was happening on his side he was pressing his trigger finger like he was at the state fair shooting targets.  I was helpless driving and focusing on the road.  The radio was giving instruction but how could I listen when my co-driver is shooting his weapons.  My ears where going deaf because of the close proximity to him shooting.  I followed the vehicle in front of me, I was his twin.  He turned to the left side of the road I did to.  He dodged a box, we dodged a box.  My muscle memory from years of training was kicking in and I didn’t even know it.  During one of my turns I remember what appeared to be a coffee can explode.  Nick and I were in shock because if it was 2-4 seconds later that would have been right in our truck.  Adrenaline was flowing and Nick was laying fire down on anything that moved.  While I was driving I would look over to his side and see all the people shooting at us.  At that time I was pissed off that I couldn’t partake in the shooting.  During all this time I forgot I had my camera in my hand so I did what I thought was right at the time. I switched to video and filmed what I was going through.  If anything was going to happen to me I wanted my kids to know what I did.  What seemed like hours only lasted less than ten minutes but It forever is now engraved in my memory.

     During the last few minutes the gunfire began to fade of into the distant.  My adrenaline was still pumping my heart at a fast pace.  As the convoy continued on the road I wondered if any of the other trucks had been as fortunate has Nick and I.  The radio again continues with chatter and I here that were being diverted to the closest military base on the road.  During that time which lasted another few minutes I slowly tried to comprehend what I had just been through.  I pulled and gathered all my thoughts.  So much of me wanted to brag and boast about what I had just been through.  I felt this sense of becoming and it overwhelmed me.  I cemented, at least in my mind that I’m now a “Soldier”.  As we pulled into the base Medics awaited our arrival.  It was unknown to us at the time but we had five injured.  When I finally parked that’s when I saw them pull out one of my own brothers.  Specialist Bond had been shot in both legs and it hit me.  The medics rushed him out of our sight onto an awaiting helicopter.  I never got to see him before he left but I did see the inside of his truck.  The pools of blood on the seat gave off an odor I’ve never experienced.  The holes on his door where reminders of how lucky my truck was.  That cement feeling had now changed to guilt and sorrow.  All though I wasn’t in his truck I felt bad that I couldn’t have done something to have prevented “Bond’s” injury.  Then a huge dust storm began to take shape and the roar of an engine over took the landscape.  It was the medics chopper taking our brother to the hospital.  As that chopper flew over us and we began to grasp what had just happened to us all, I hit me.  We’re going to have to go back on the road and continue what we had just started thirty minutes ago. 

Texting

I wonder what we were like before the “Texting” phenomenon took over our lives. What happened to the days when we called each other? I remember the days when I had a pager (Yes, I’m dating myself) in the 1990’s. On of the coolest tricks in those days was turning numbers into words. Hello and Besos would scroll across my pager and it was a good feeling. I now realize that this was “Texting” in its infancy. I had begun to be a part of something we now do so impersonally. Soon after pagers had “Qwerty” keyboards and texting had begun to take off. The late 90’s came and we all had the ability to use and afford cell phones. We could call and talk to each other and enjoy one on one conversations. Then something came back into the fray. Texting wouldn’t allow us to hear each others voice. Technolgy decided we again need to use our keypads and start becoming impersonal again.
Fast forward to present day and we don’t even think twice about it. City, County, State and Federal employees all communicate via Text now. There are even apps on our cell phones that even allow us to use our voice to text each other. We talk so we can Texted each other because tapping a touch screen is getting to hard now? Wasn’t the point of having a cell phone was to call each other? Cell carriers make it even easier to keep this going by offering unlimited plans for Texter’s. I for one still text and talk with my cell but I have to admit when I really don’t want to talk to someone I sure enjoy tapping my screen. Hopefully one day I’ll be able to text my bill collectors, that way I don’t have to here all the voicemails.

Reality isn't really Reality

Reality television is something I used to look so forward to in the past. I say past because it no longer helps me engage with the individuals on those shows. I sense a lack of reality in programming nowadays. Shows that once caught my attention like “The Real World” and “Survivor” have evolved in something far from reality.
When the “Real World’ first came on television it was ground breaking because it would show the real lives of young adults from different areas throughout the United States. They would live in a house paid for by MTV (Music Television back in those days). They would have everything they did throughout their stay recorded and it was entertaining. The roommate battles, distant relationships and personal struggles adjusting to different individuals was at that time entertaining. One couldn’t help but put themselves in their shoes and say “If I was there I would do this or I would have hooked up with him/her”. Has the show remained on air, it changed locations and with that it changed my enjoyment. I couldn’t relate to locations and individuals anymore. But then something caught my attention and gripped me hard with excitement. Every week was better than the next due to the backstabbing, lies and false friendships, it was called “Survivor”. Every week you could see behind the scenes of what people are plotting and planning to do to each other on a desolate island. These stranded castaways fight and plunder each other’s lives for a chance at winning one million dollars. Sounds like entertainment to me. But after a year so and several episodes I lost my taste in watching that too. What was it that made me change? Why did I stop watching “Reality Television”?
The simplest reason on why I stop is because it wasn’t “Reality” anymore. It became some choreographed story that wasn’t reality but a staged television show. I found out the hard way that these shows are now planned stories on a “Reality” show. My brother-in-law is a freelance production assistant and has work on several of these shows. I wish I could give out names but if word got back he opened his mouth he would not work there long. He explained to me that every event, place and story is staged. They recon sights for every episode, brainstorm ideas and stage/plant every event. I was in shock, really how could you call this “Reality’? The only reality is that the star of these shows gets paid. He explained to me that do you think the star of the show would bake over one hundred cookies for a bake sale? Would she really pick up a stray dog in the middle of designer store and keep it? The cookies were bought at a bakery and that stray dog is actually a trained animal. They wouldn’t risk any actor or actress getting bit by some strange dog in the streets. So knowing all this and knowing all these shows on television I now wonder what “Reality television” is.
I no longer watch anything with the term “Reality” in it. Why do I want to watch young adults act a fool during the summer on the Jersey Shore? Does anyone remember the first five winners of “Survivor”? Does anyone remember the first three winners of the “Amazing Race”?

Sunday Funday

Thinking back to the days when I was younger I can remember always wanting to go to church. See church back in the days for me and my brother was a guaranteed way to eat out. We would count minutes until the father would release us from church at Our Lady of Guadalupe in Colonia. They me and my brother would plan out how to go where we want to eat. More often than not we ended up at Carrow’s, Denny’s or IHOP. One time my parents decided to make a trip out of it and we headed off to Olvira St in Los Angeles. Walking through the outdoor shops and smelling all baked goods gave me an appetite. We found a great little restaurant on the far end (Can’t remember the name but I know how to get there to this day). My taste in food back then was bland at best; I hated spicy or hot foods. Going out to eat was always around me on Sundays mornings. See for some reason food, family and church always came together in my family. There would be a baptism in the family then let’s go the “El Pescador” in Santa Paula. My parents made us go to youth group on Thursday’s then let’s take them out to "Win’s Drive-in" afterwards. It was kind of a reward for being raised Catholic. If you ask me to this day if I remember any of the services I can honestly say “No” but I can remember the place we went after church.

It’s funny how things go full circle when you become older. I’m not a practicing Catholic any more but I attend Christian services because my wife is (Yes this makes me one but I still can’t remember anything). No more Sunday services because we go on Saturday’s now but the ritual remains the same. The Mrs. and I take our 3 little ones out to eat after service. At times I hear my Eleven year old son tell my six year old daughter where to go. The usual spots are “Panera Bread, Eggs & Things, Round Table and Mr’s Olsens”. I didn’t see it when I was younger because I was in the moment but what my parents were doing was trying to enjoy the whole day with us. Food was an extension of the day has a whole family. The edible bribe me and my brother were given was a way to talk about our week or just to see how were doing. I catch myself doing the same thing to this day. Just this past weekend my son was invited to the Monterey Music Festival in Watsonville, CA. Our trip involved dinner at Bubba Gump’s Shrimp in Monterey and El Mirador in Pismo beach, CA. I don’t know if this is something good teaching them about always eating out but it’s a way for me to connect with them because of my work and school schedule. I think I’ve even taken it a step farther by taking my kids out to eat after school. Just yesterday I offered them Costco pizza and an hour passed just talking about my kids day. Since I began this Blog today I think I’m going to try something new and hold off eating out. Who knows I might even go to the grocery store and make something with them? Guess will have to wait and see what I write in my next Blog entry.