My thoughts on the Ft. Hood Massacre and aftermath

I watched much of the Ft. Hood Massacre aftermath on TV along with the rest of the nation. Speculation varied from all over the place, from multiple spots to multiple shooters. I was horrified to be honest. I've mentioned before that my ex-hole is in the military. And through the years of our marriage, I met and befriend many soldiers, their wives, girlfriends, kids and families. My heart went out to the soldiers and families. I can't imagine having something like that happen on our post.

Yesterday, I found myself at our post's Readiness Center (long story I won't bore you) and could help but look around and think that it could have happened to anyone in that room. The thought floored me. I've taken several days to try and organize my thoughts on it, and I still don't have a good grasp on my feelings and I still haven't. I'm anger, terrified, and saddened all at once.

But today, something happened that shaped at least one thought. On Facebook, you can make/take quiz's that usually involve some sort of current events. Today, I saw one that asked the question "Should Muslims be allowed to serve in the US Armed Forces?" At almost 80%, the answer was 'no'.

I was floored. The only number I could find on Muslims in the US service branches was that the Pentagon states the numbers are around 3,500 Muslims out of 1.4 million U.S. service members.

Of my personal experience, I met people of all religions and backgrounds. Conservative Christians from the Midwest, Catholics from Boston, atheists from Alabama. And one Muslim. His name was Kareem, and he was born and raised in NJ.

I didn't know Kareem well. He was more of a friend of a friend. But once my boys left for Iraq, his name popped up more and more in the stories I heard. My friend Scottie and he grew very close, and slowly I learned more about him. He joined the military because he wanted people not only to change the world, but to show his patriotism. When he was finished with his service, he wanted to go to medical school. And in the pictures I saw of him he was often goofing off and making funny faces.

On August 6th, 2007, Kareem and 3 others (Nick Gummersall, Jake "Tommy" Thompson and Juan Alcantara) were killed when an IED went off in a home they were entering to search for insurgents. These men were my friends, my "family by choice" as Tommy used to say. And their deaths were devastating to me. Never once did it cross these boys minds that Kareem was Muslim. He was an American, a soldier, and their brother.

But Kareem became known to the world when Colin Powell mentioned a photograph taken of his mother at his grave site, used by the New York Post in a photo essay about the War on Terror. I agree the image is powerful, but for me it's for another reason.

I was at the service where a 21-gun salute was made in his honor. Saw his mother break down in front of the helmet and dog-tag memorial meant to represent his honorable service. Saw the tears fall down his fathers face as the notes of "Amazing Grace" wafted through the Chapel Air.

For me, those who question the rights of Muslim-Americans to protect their country. I feel they directly question every action Kareem made for his country, including his death and the honor he gave our country by serving it.

Ah, the French...

Aaaahhhh... The worthless French :)

Dear Dad:

A funny thing happened to me yesterday at Camp Bondsteel (Bosnia): A French Army officer walked up to me in the PX, and told me he thought we Americans were a bunch of cowboys and were going to provoke a war in Iraq. He said if such a thing happens, we wouldn't be able to count on the support of France.

I told him that it didn't surprise me. Since we had come to France's rescue in World War I, World War II, Vietnam, and the Cold War, their ingratitude and jealousy was due to surface again at some point in the near future anyway. I also told him that is why France is a third-rate military power with a socialist economy and a bunch of pansies for soldiers. I additionally told him that America, being a nation of deeds and action, not words, would do whatever it had to do, and France's support, if it ever came, was only for show anyway.

Just like in ALL NATO exercises, the US would shoulder 85% of the burden, and provide 85% of the support, as evidenced by the fact that this French officer was shopping in the American PX, and not the other way around.

He began to get belligerent at that point, and I told him if he would like to, I would meet him outside in front of the Burger King and whip his ass in front of the entire Multinational Brigade East, thus demonstrating that even the smallest American had more fight in him than the average Frenchman. He called me a barbarian cowboy and walked away in a huff.

With friends like these, who needs enemies?

Dad, tell Mom I love her,

Your loving daughter.

This came from Marine LtCol Mary Beth Johnson, and this letter is epic!

(Thanks TJ)

Army of Dude

I generally avoid military blogs. Especially "I'm in Iraq" blogs. I have some war issues, as most of you know (if not see here). Hell, I know a fair amount of the boys in My War by Colby Buzzell, and I still haven't read the damn thing. But I was stumbling today and came across a blog called Army of Dude. This soldier served in Iraq with Ex-hole unit. They weren't in the same battalion, but it was the same brigade, and they were generally in the same place, same time, same games.

Thanks Dick

Cheney admits there was never any evidence tying Iraq and 9/11

Soldier's Health: Why I hate War

I'm sure most of you have heard about the recent tragedy in Iraq, were a soldier shot and killed 5 of his fellow soldiers. The soldier was being treated at a Stress Clinic at Camp Liberty in Baghdad. He'd been involved in a altercation earlier in the day, was relieved of his weapon and sent back to his housing. He returned later that day with another weapon, and shot 8 people, killing 5.

This subject is very hard for me to talk about. And let me get some straight right away. I'm not in the armed services, and I have never been in the armed services. I've never been to war, and I can't imagine how I would handle it if I was.

That being said, I was married to a service member who saw more then his share of war. I housed, feed and comforted countless soldiers during our marriage; some of whom came and went quickly, and many who became like family. We had a core group of boys (and I say boys because that's exactly what they were) who came to our house for various reason and never really left. I jokingly called them my Lost Boys, because I felt a lot like Wendy in Peter Pan. I was suddenly playing mother to a handful of kids, when I wasn't much older then them to start with.

With my ex's last deployment in 2006, my felt like my heart broke into tiny pieces and each of "My Boys" took a bit with them. They really were my family. At the end of a 16 month deployment, I had attended funerals, held crying wives, mothers and girlfriends. Not all of the pieces of my heart came home, and they never will.

Even the ones who returned were different. It's like they left as puppies; excited, not quite grown, but willing to do what they should. They came home scared, scrappy pound dogs. Some did well, continued in army and got over the things they had seen and done. Some never did.

One of 'my boys' was one that never got better. While on patrol in August of 2007 (2 months after they should have returned home, but they were extended for the "Surge") he and his units were clearing homes, and upon entering one of the houses, and trip wire was hit. The house was demolished, and 5 amazing men lost their lives. My friend never could come to terms with what happened. He struggled constantly with the fact that his friend Kareem, a Muslim from New Jersey who dreamed off being a doctor, had taken his place at the last second when my friend's show has come untied. He had good days and bad days, and not long after his return home was quoted by a newspaper as saying "I know they would want me to get on with my life," he said. "Just like I'd want them to get on with their lives if it had happened to me."

In the end he couldn't and on August 6th of last year, the 1 year anniversary of that fateful day, he killed himself at his home.

My ex-husband had already done 2 deployments, the last in 2006 was his third total, his second to Iraq. When he came home he was moody, depressed and very aggressive. I won't go into the horror stories, but it wasn't pretty. The constant mood swings, anger and fear took an incredible toll on our marriage. Our marriage wasn't on super solid ground to start with, and after an incident involving our son, I left him.

I went to his unit, talked to every doctor I could, and even after some extreme behavior by him, no one did anything more for him then the barest of minimums. They were happier to shove every incident under the rug and call it a day.

Obviously these are both fairly extreme cases, but I've seen some amount of these symptoms in pretty much every service member I know. I'm terrified for my friends and family in the service, and I wish there was something more to be done. It seems they are being used like racehorses, run and run and run and when they show signs of fatigue they are sent to the glue factory. The same unit of boys I know is being deployed again this summer. For many of them, this is now their second and third deployments.

I've seen so many people, lives and families torn to pieces from the inside out that it kills me a little everyday.

I don't know if this will even mean anything to anyone, but I had to get it off my chest.