Railroad Tracks

That's the nickname given to Jason's new rank insignia-- the double silver bar. He is now a Lieutenant in the NAVY! These pictures are from his promotion ceremony held at North Lake on the Submarine Base. He wanted to have the ceremony somewhere on base because his Grandpa Lloyd trained at this very base back in the 1940s. He later served as a torpedoman on the USS Paddle. Since it will likely be the last promotion of his Navy career, it was memorable to be in a location with such significance.

Pinning on the bars.

Always a speech...

Evelyn was sleeping soundly in the car (50 meters away with the windows cracked and a nice breeze blowing through) so she is not in any of the pictures. She sure looked cute though.

We had a nice luncheon for those who attended the ceremony in lieu of the traditional "wetting down". I was flattered the next day when the Commanding Officer of the base told Jason he wanted to demote him in order to re-promote him so that we could have another luncheon. He really enjoyed my food, I guess! Encouraging...especially after the hard work, intimidation, and broken fridge that went along with the preparation.


Jen Ekberg, the wife of Lieutenant Commander Ekberg who did the actual promotion, gave me this little bee. The wives of Seabees always give each other bee gifts and acquire large bee collections over the years. I probably won't end up with many, but this one meant a lot to me being my first one.

Congratulations Lieutenant Lloyd,

you are my hero.

We are a Happy Family!!!

This is the way it's supposed to be.

He's Coming!

Jason is officially in the United States and on his way home! He gets in on the last flight tonight! Hooray! I cannot believe that this day has come at last. I think until this afternoon, I wasn't really sure it would ever happen. Check back for pictures of the return...I'm sure they'll make it on the blog eventually!

Until then, here are a couple of pictures of our babies:

Learning to play together.


Visit from Uncle Derek. (I think Max was a little confused...it looks a little like my Daddy...but not quite...)

Sweet Evelyn

Inland Near-Death Adventure

...Just a quick experience...

My friend, Kyle Crass, and I took advantage of an R&R program that the military offers for personnel to take a four day pass to Qatar, stay on the Army/Air Force base there, Al Sayliyah, and enjoy some of the local tourist trips. However, as a result of Ramadan throughout September we were limited on what could be done off of the Base. Nonetheless, we adventured out for one tour that was offered, called the Inland Sea Picnic.

This picnic was hosted by a company called Qatar International Adventures, and an adventure it was! I thought for sure I would lose my life in a car accident on the streets of Qatar! They drove like lunatics! I’ve never been so nervous in a vehicle before…driving just as fast they could swerving in and out, running other cars literally off the road, slamming on their brakes inches away from other vehicles, and then imagine creating three lanes of traffic out of two, where the first lane is a large dump truck, the second is your vehicle pressed as closely to it as possible while passing it on the left, and the third lane is the oncoming traffic honking and swerving half off the road to get around you! Yikes! Then when traffic came to a halt they didn’t let that stop them, they squeezed between the large tractor trailers in the right lane and proceeded to cruise down the highway off of the shoulder parallel with the highway. It was crazy! Even now I find myself at a lack of words to express it. We finally arrived at the part where we left the paved roads to cruise the sand dunes. That was more my style (I’m from the West, what can I say, off-roading is in my blood) and although it was obvious they were trying to scare folks with their sand dune driving skills I found that I could probably have shown them a thing or two.

At last we arrived at the picnic area where a small camp was set up next to the Persian Gulf. We were able to swim around in the very salty water; watch out for jelly fish! Then a man named, Salem (“sawlem”), walked over and said we could take pictures with his camel for $5. What a bargain, I thought! The camel was obviously less than enthused and kept growling and squeaking his few remaining teeth against his upper gums. I’ve included one of the shots I had taken of me below in an effort to keep up with the rest of the naked family on this blog :-)…Salem made a fortune off of us funny Americans that day and probably still wonders why we would pay $5 to take our pictures with a camel.

I prayed the entire way home that I would be spared and live to return home, so far so good. No doubt we had fun and the new experience was worth any inconvenience, but the adventure was indubitably in the ride there and back!

Cocoons Aren't All Bad

It’s been another couple of weeks since I last reached out to the outlying world. So much has happened in my little world in that amount of time, yet at the same time, so little has happened. I don’t mean to become overly philosophical on you, and don’t honestly think I’m capable of doing so. It is difficult to describe, but I trust you know just what I’m saying. It’s easy to lose track of perspective, or rather, to perhaps gain a new perspective on what’s important in life when confined to the boundaries of an 18 square mile barren desert land. In some form or fashion each of us confines ourselves to a limited portion of the world in which we can become lost in the minute details, and that’s the source of the altered perspective. Isn’t that one of the great purposes of the scriptures; to broaden our perspective, open our view, almost to give us Deity’s vantage point of earthly humanity, that thereby we become able to see the forest in spite of the trees? I like to think so.

I’ve also noted throughout my short life that a limited perspective tends to add drama to one’s life. And when I say “drama” I don’t mean song and dance, I mean “commotion.” The proverbial rocking of the boat; that kind that really troubles you. I recall several years ago Carrie and I were getting ready for a Halloween party. Of course, we’re going as a couple to a couples-only party where everyone is mostly likely going to be dressed in some kind of couples theme, like NaCl (table salt) & a Duracell (Assault & Battery) for example. We had decided, in an effort to be something unique but feasible, to be a cocoon and butterfly. You can only guess who was which; it doesn’t make much sense to dress a “caterpillar” like a butterfly when you’ve already got a “butterfly.” So we wrapped me up in the cocoon. However, I had convinced myself that all the other party goers were going to have these fantastic costumes, Hollywood standard. Meanwhile, I looked ridiculous in my white sheet, white painted face and tennis shoes. I recall being so upset about it, stressing out, and leaving home in the worst mood. I’m sure I spoiled it for Carrie—who makes a lovely butterfly by the way. I was the world’s worst date that night, and it was all so silly. And for what? I laugh now looking back because those Hollywood costumes never showed up and I fit right in. Although, it didn’t help that on the way over I ended up spilling some of the chili we were taking onto my cocoon—most people there couldn’t decide if I was a mummy or a wad of used toilet paper!

My point is that in the end of it all that little moment in my life was spoiled by my self-inflicted grief borne of a limited view of what was happening around me; a petite perspective. It’s so easy to get caught up in it. I think we all do it to some degree and I’ve discovered that when Colonels and Generals do it on a Marine Corps base it adds a lot of drama to one’s life. Especially when that one is the facilities engineer and that one facility is that one General’s! “Yes, Sir” “Will do, Sir.” “I’m sorry, Sir.” “Of course, Sir.” “There’s nothing I’d rather do with my time, Sir.” In the end it’s nothing more than HVAC and windows.

In the edifice of life windows and HVAC can be important, but never worth sacrificing the foundation…

A Friendly Barber Headshake?

There’s a lot that can be said about shaking hands. I can’t speak for the girls, but for the guys the handshake says a lot about you and how you want to portray yourself to another person. I recall going to a class about becoming a better communicator, it was sponsored by the Navy and conducted by a contracted lecturer. I remember us spending some time talking about what messages different types of handshakes can communicate. We can all laugh about most of them, since we’ve all been there, especially the guys. I won’t analyze them right now, but some of them are:

--What I like to call the ‘dead fish.’ I experienced this one a lot on my mission to Brazil. The person extends their hand to you, but when you grab on it’s like a limp body of flesh, lifeless, lax and flopped over.
--The opposite of the ‘dead fish’ is the ‘vice’. Get a dead fish and vice together to shake hands and most likely someone will get hurt. The vice is the handshake that feels as if it’s going to crush every bone in your hand. It’s not good and I usually try to avoid these people, if possible.
--Then there is the ‘grasp your elbow or shoulder while I shake your hand’ hand shake. “Yes, Bishop, I’ll be there, or I’ll accept that assignment.”
--And there is the ‘bobber’. That’s the handshake that bobs up and down for the duration of your conversation. It’s no use pulling your hand away, you’re stuck bobbing with the bobber until the bobber is done bobbing. Period.
--There is also the ‘four finger’ handshake. This is mostly offered by ladies, but every once in a while the other guy will close his hand too early catching only your four fingers inadvertently and then your stuck for an awkward moment giving him the four finger shake—never a good handshake for a guy to give another guy, especially if the other guy is a ‘vicer’! OUCH!
--Lastly, I’ll mention the ‘civil’ handshake. This is the more traditional thought of a handshake where two hands are clasped firmly, but not overbearingly, with a good balance of bounce and proper release timing.

In Iraq they add a little extra touch to the handshake, I kind-of like it, although it did take some getting used to. They tend toward the ‘civil’ handshake more often than not, and then once you release hands you place your hand over your heart for a brief second. It is an endearing sign of mutual friendship.

Folks from Iraq tend to be friendly, at least the ones I’ve met. So friendly, in fact, that they like to be real close to you, too close sometimes for me. They often enter my personal space; my ‘bubble’, if you will. You can kind-of see it in one of the photos below, where I’m standing in the middle of several men. I have my hands clasped in front of me for a reason. As we lined up to take the photo the guy to my right wanted to hold onto my arm. I’m not comfortable with that and simply pretended to not notice and quickly moved my hands to my front where they, and the arms attached to them, could not be cleaved to by another man. It’s not necessarily a sign of homosexualism or anything; it’s just part of their culture. I’ve seen several times a group of men walking somewhere and they will be holding onto one another’s arms or even hands, kind-of like teenage girls do in the States.

This I’ve never seen in the US, however, and I’m glad too, because I don’t really enjoy it. Some of you might like it, however. When you get your haircut they will finish it off with a head massage. Everyone does it from the beauty salon stylist to the barber. Once your hair is cut they immediately begin to squeeze and squish your head. They push and poke around your neck a little, but mostly they act as if your head is a huge pimple and they’re not giving up until it pops! I honestly think that my skull has taken a different shape since being here! They really squash and compress and clutch your head. It makes me feel like I’m shaking with a ‘vicer’, but with my head instead! The barber shop where I always go has three barbers in it. I usually go to one in particular, when he’s available, and have trained him by tipping more when he doesn’t massage my head then when he does massage. He’s caught on now, which is why I like him—the other two…not so much.

A Photographic Experience

I had my picture taken at a chapel that we are building with an Iraqi Contractor. The picture captures me along with the Iraqi electricians presently working in there. They are very nice people. They seem to be trying so hard to do a worthy job for us, but like the other tradesmen before them their work just isn’t the quality that I expect; it’s not the quality that we are paying for. Understand that a large portion of my responsibility is to ensure that we deliver quality and timely facilities to the war fighters. When we fail this mission the fighter’s ability to fight is directly hindered. I take this responsibility seriously. [Of course, a chapel is not a war platform (although some of life’s greatest wars are silently fought within the walls of chapels all over the world) nonetheless, this is meant to generally represent my experiences.] Lately I would find myself very critical and even cynical at times of the Iraqi’s work. I had grown tired of answering to my superiors for the substandard quality. My staff and I would spend time with them trying to coach and convince, or at least establish some sort of mutual acceptance. I remained disappointed and frustrated. This began to bleed into my project briefs to the Skipper (commanding officer) and the base’s Commanding General. I would often leave those briefs feeling that I had done the right thing in being truthful and forthright with the General and his staff, but simultaneously I would feel somehow…wrong.

I felt wrong again as I examined my photograph. I studied their faces and posture; their faces drawn down and tired, their hands hanging low—they looked so beaten. That is except for one—he’s the son of the primary electrician (blue shirt; his father is second from the right). His face looks youthful and new, it seems to say that he has seen many terrible things, things that no boy should ever have to witness, but it also seems to say that despite it all, there is hope. His face says to me that he will recover, that he will do better than his father because of his father, and the American military. I see youthfulness and zeal, energy and learning. I see that they do not need a critic, they need a friend. They need someone to believe in them.

Sheikh Joseph believes in them. Or at least that’s the name that they told us to call him after hearing his real name tied my brain in a knot. Sheikh Joseph and his nephew and colleagues visited the camp this last week. We have a Contractor (an American company) that we are struggling with to complete a $20M project. As part of their recovery plan they have hired an Iraqi company to be their concrete subcontractor. This company is partially owned/operated by Sheikh Joe and his nephew. They are influential men in the Anbar province. Going in to meet him I didn’t quite know what to expect, but it turned out to be much simpler then I had imagined. Sheikh Joe appeared as any other Iraqi to me, nothing ornate or glorified about him. Our purpose in meeting with him was to open up opportunities to do business with the Iraqi people. It’s a good place to start since a Sheikh probably has a ‘black book’ as thick as the Twin Falls phone book! He should know a few folks. These Iraqi businessmen (and a women I must add—which is very significant in this part of the world) expressed their desires to help us help Iraq; to build business relationships with Iraqi companies, stimulating their economy; to have Iraqi citizens come on camp, have a good experience working for a profitable salary, and then return home to share their stories with family and neighbors. We all agreed that this would help counter economic strife as well as terrorism in the Anbar Province. Those good stories will no doubt spread throughout the Province like dust in an Iraqi wind storm. It will help to win the hearts of locals, give them courage to break a binding cast of doubt, and to give their children, the next generation, a better chance. I think that’s really how long it’s going to take too, a generation.

A life of enslavement to one’s government, the expressed disagreement with which could cost you your life, would indeed instill deeply rooted fears and distrust. I believe it will take that next generation, standing upon the shoulders of a bold few, like Sheikh Joseph and my friend the electrician, to overcome the oppressive stigma that envelopes a good portion of this country still. I believe they can do it, but not without paying a price—there will be a great sacrifice required for many years to come--and also not without us believing in them.

I am no longer their critic. I believe in them.

American Tribute

Max is famous! Check out the sweet picture/post of him at http://louise-r-shaw.blogspot.com.

"Boots on Ground" is the term the military uses to describe the time a sailor, marine, airmen, or soldier spends deployed. It also describes the point when the "clock" starts ticking; you know the big clock in the sky that keeps track of how long one has been deployed and how much longer one has remaining. No one has ever seen the clock, but we all know it's there, watching over us and we all hope it never misses a day! This foot print is not actually mine, but representative nonetheless of my first step onto Middle Eastern soil, namely Kuwait. That's when my time started; when my boot hit the ground, when the gears in my big clock started rolling...I'm not quite sure how long I've been here, roughly 1 1/2 months. I haven't been able to blog with photos until now, so I'm going to do a little jumping around to share a few photos.

Soon after arriving it was time to turn over responsibilities of the Facilities Engineering Division Officer (my current position) from a fellow officer. Tom Rendulic is his name--swell guy no doubt. He's affectionately called "Man-Squatch" because of his size 17 boots, which I teased him saying that it takes two cows to make; one for each boot! The mosque in the background sits directly behind the can city where I change my clothes and sleep. By the way, can cities are little living areas, neighborhoods if you will, of modular living units called CHU's (containerized housing units) that we call "cans". They're like small trailer houses, but most don't have integrated bathrooms; most share an ablution unit. Anyway, now that you know the intricacies of our cans...We're not allowed into the mosques for good reason so I only have seen what you see in the photo.

The photo on top is from Kuwait, look closely and you will see a herd of camels. The photo on the bottom is an old concrete stadium here at Al Asad. It is left over from the Saddam Hussein era. It's rumored that this base was utilized for Olympic training. I'm not sure how true that is, but there is this stadium, a track, and two Olympic-sized swimming pools. We use a lot of the Saddam era buildings for our operations.

Dust or sand storms are a commonality here. I'm standing on the northern ridge of the base in this photo. If you look closely you'll notice that my uniform is pressed tightly against my body; it gets really windy! Visibility drops dramatically during these storms and makes life pretty miserable for everyone.

The sand is not quite like what you might see at a beach, it's much finer. It's sometimes referred to as moon dust; I guess because it's so fine (dunno, never been to the moon).

The neck gator is a necessity during these storms because of the particulates that fill the air. There is a surgeon attached to a Seabee battalion who is researching the long term effects of these dust storms on the human respiratory system...I'd be interested to know how that turns out.

Here is a good side-by-side comparison of the difference of a clear day and a sand storm day.

Me, Kyle Crass, and Geoffry Holly, posed at the mid point of a 6 mile unit field march. This old Saddam era anti-aircraft gun sits up on the airfield. It's one of many antique memorabilia left behind, including some old aircraft (which I'll share photos of later).

I'm working to obtain a warfare qualification and this march is part of the requirements. We had fun, not doubt, but we were hurting by the time we got back too! I didn't expect it, but my feet were pretty badly blistered.

And finally, to wrap up this post, which is roughly the size of Kuwait itself, my latest adventure. A few officers and I were able to fly onboard one of the Marine Corps' MV-22B Ospreys. It's a tilt rotary aircraft that functions like a hybrid airplane-helicopter. It's much faster than the average helicopter, but maintains much of the helo capabilities. They took us up for about a 1/2 flight with the back hatch open throughout. That made it much more interesting since you could look out the back at the horizon. The pilots pulled some pretty fun negative G dives and positive G-force turns that made the ride entertaining for most of us, but a couple of the guys ended up pretty sick. I had a blast!

Stay tuned for the next adventures of a civil engineer in the middle of nowhere...

WORD FROM DIX

Carrie was right, the leave visit home was awesome! I had more fun in 9 days than any man should ever be allowed by those who govern the levels of fun...had...by man. (I loved being home.)

The return flight to Ft. Dix was a bit jarring. The lady passenger next to me was very tired and kept waking up on occasion mumbling incoherent babblings to whom I presume was her husband. In between the babbling she sawed logs like she was trying out for "Axman," perhaps. A couple of times I looked over just to make sure she wasn't in any pain--I realized that it's diffcult to detect pain in an unconcious logger.

The photo is me holding the Browning M2 50-caliber machine gun, affectionately called the "Ma Deuce" or "fifty-cal." I was one of a select few in our group that was trained on this weapon and able to shoot it on the range, as well as in a convoy training evolution. It was a lot of fun! What's more amazing, perhaps, is that it was originally designed at the end of World War I, which technology is still used today. They've made some alterations for different applications, but the weapon I am holding is essentially the same one they fired during WWI and on. It can mount on a tripod or on a swivel on a vehicle. The part I'm holding weighs 84 pounds.

Since returning from leave we've passed most of the week waiting around and packing. We were scheduled to fly out yesterday evening and even went to the airport terminal on McGuire Air Force Base and stood in line to check luggage and orders, etc. Then out of no where and without explanation the flight was canceled until today. So, once again we have spent the day waiting around, but what makes it a little worse is that we packed everything already so there is no showering or changing of the clothes for any of us. Thankfully I packed my toothbrush and deodorant in my carry-on at the last minute yesterday.

I will be glad to finally say "good-bye" to Ft. Dix, New Jersey, but I'm going to wait to do it from the sky because you never know, I just may be back to stay another night!

Kuwait or bust...

Training at Fort Dix, New Jersey

Here is an update from Jason:








Gulfport was pretty frustrating with all of the mismanagement of the processing program. I was glad to say good bye. Carrie and I were tracking for a tour with the Seabee battalion there at the end of this year, but we decided to go the IA route and move to Connecticut instead. After spending a week there I am glad that we aren't going to be living there. For the most part the community bears the wounds of that devastating storm to this day. As you drive around you can see what improvements have been made, but it is also abundantly evident that much poverty remains. I don't think Carrie and Max would have enjoyed the area, particularly while I would have been deployed.

The first photo is me on the tarmac of the Boluxi International Airport awaiting our plane to New Jersey.

Since arriving here I've been through several lectures/classes on all sorts of topics ranging from combat first aid, IED, and gas mask to Arabic linguistics, Islamic beliefs and Iraqi culture. I've also been able to get my military Humvee license. The class actually ended up being a little boring since they have so many restrictions on the driving course for safety purposes. Also, the Humvee now-a-days are designed to drive straight, stop fast, very fast, and protect the crew from small arms fire. As a result they are very heavily armored, which makes them top heavy and very unstable off road. In reality they rarely drive off road In Country. The funnes part was a rollover training we did. They have a Humvee cab on hydraulics that we climb into and they turn us upside down (dressed in full battle gear, which is very heavy with stiff ballistic plates in it) and we have to release ourselves from the seat belt, plop onto our heads, and climb out of it. It was really fun. The first time was disorienting, but on the second turn I had a good feel for where I was upside down and it went much smoother. I had a good time with it.

Also, this week I had a good time qualifying on the 9mm pistol, which is the weapon I'll be issued. It was a lot of fun. The course is a series of pop-up targets that appear randomly with different scenarios, including shooting with a gas mask on. A perfect score is 40 targets hit. I scored a 37, which qualifies as "expert". In fact I scored the best score in our group with exception to one officer. He is a competition shooter--you know the type that has and knows every type of weapon in existence. I owe a lot of my success that day to him because I spent some time the night prior talking to him about how to shoot the pistol properly. It really helped and made it fun because I felt like I really had control of the weapon. He scored a 39. If they gave me another chance I think I could do better...maybe another day.

I share a room with three other officers. They are good guys. I get along really well with one of them. We have a good time joking around and working hard too. Another of the roommates is a Chaplain. He's a real joker. I like him a lot too and we also have fun together. I couldn't ask for better roommates.

It's been interesting to say the least. The really good news is that we are going to finish our training ahead of schedule so we have been approved to fly back to our commands for 9 days of leave. I am going to pay the difference to fly out to Idaho and spend that time. I can't wait to see everyone again! The only bad part is that I'll have to say good bye again, and that's never fun.

Joining the Ranks

Now that it's official I wanted to let our friends and extended family know of what the new year holds for us. I have recently received orders to serve a 6-month boots-on-ground tour in Iraq. Don't be shocked, we weren't, since we actually volunteered for the position a couple of months ago. Don't feel bad for us either, we don't, since we knew from the beginning that this possibility always held potential. I have to admit that serving in the war in Iraq never was part of our original planning, but some things have changed, inside our home and inside Iraq too, that have brought us to this point.

Do be shocked, we are, at the awesome progress that our heroic men and women of the armed forces have made in the last 7 months in Iraq, resulting in a much safer place to be. Do feel faith in God, The Lord of Hosts, we do, as you pray for our family this year. Your prayers will be well received and much appreciated!

This has been a difficult decision for us, and many challenges lie ahead, but we stride confidently into the future fearing only that we would not gain from these challenges all that is intended for us. I will report to my check-in at the Seabee base in Gulfport, MS, on 31 March. I will be there until the 7th of April when I arrive at Ft. Dix in New Jersey. This will be my training ground for the duration of one month. I'll be taught many basic skills from land navigation to military conveyance techniques. I am scheduled to fly into US Central Command in Kuwait on May 9th, where I will spend about 10 days or so acclimating, continuing training, and hitching a ride to my ultimate duty station.

It's a fun ride into Camp Al Asad, in the Anbar Province of Western Iraq, if you request the C-130's tactical landing approach, I'm told. I'll definitely request it! Camp Al Asad is a Marine fixed-wing air base--basically like where I work now, but not so green. There I will spend the remainder of my deployment serving in one of three possible engineering positions. It will be great duty to have for someone of my abilities and training. I won't be required to leave the base, I won't convoy, ever, and though I wear an M9 on my side at all times, I'll probably never even shoot it. I will work long, long, long hours, I will probably want to leave the base to see something different for a change, and I will program, plan, brief or anything else they need me to do...In short, it will be a job rated for my training as an engineer.

I'll leave this blog as it stands now, allowing Carrie to enter her own posting of what her plans will be during my time away. I intend to enter many more blogs as this year passes on and plans become experiences, and experiences, memories. -Jason-