My nephew is stationed in Mosul. He loves to write and promised, if had time, he would write an article for a local city website. I thought some here might be interested and I'll post this one article.

A teenager and two of his buddies ride bikes towards me. They stop four meters from where I stand. I recognize one of them from a couple days ago; he unzips his jacket and pulls out a cigarette. He lights it. He speaks English. After a couple minutes, four more teenagers begin to approach from a couple blocks away. They are all wearing nice clothes; one has his hair slicked back. When they get about a half block away, the kid I remember says, "Hey Sergeant Xxx!"

I ignore at first, even though I'm surprised he knows my name and rank. I guess he can read as well. After two or three more times, I look into his direction, rather than watching him out of the corner of my eye. When I look, he seems very apt to tell me something. I motion him closer with my left hand. He makes sure I want him to move closer and after confirmation comes to about 6 feet.

"Those boys are bad. Bad." He shows me the thumbs down sign. He repeats it and looks anxious...like he wants me to do something.

I acknowledge his statement; I look back up at the four boys. Now I realized why--one of the teenagers beat him up about a week ago; so, of course he doesn't like them. In any case, the 7 boys sit around and socialize and smoke cigarettes. Eventually, the four leave and the one I know looks more relaxed. Life in Mosul is not always much different than elsewhere: Teenagers smoking, talking tough, scrapping with one another, and hanging out.

However, five times a day (Morning, mid-morning, noon, afternoon, and dusk) prayers are sung and amplified through a speaker system on top of many of the mosques. It can be heard throughout the camp. This verse is very odd, but it brings back a reality of being in the Middle East. It tells me that I am a foreigner.

Coming towards us are two shepherds with canes; they both have red and white checkered head covers (have been on the pilgrimage); they have full beards. Daily, three sheep dogs push thirty or so sheep and two donkeys through the city streets from their nearby farm. They graze on the grass between the roads and the fences. Anything they can eat, they do. They pose for a picture directly in front of our gun truck; they are not the least bit bothered by our weapons or presence. They know we are on their side or at least not a threat, as long as they stick to herding.

A couple of sheep decide to chase somebody's chickens. The dogs notice and nudge them back into the herd. It's a display of ancient Bedouin heritage in a city that was once called Nineveh, mentioned in Genesis (meaning Great City). Yet, it is no longer great. When I first came, I saw mountains in the distance, but now and for at least a month, they have been covered by pollution. Small black swirls spring up everywhere. The locals burn whatever they can find to stay warm. Sometimes the temperature at this time of the year drops into the 30's. At first, the black swirls and strange amplified verse seem bizarre, but now it's just part of the scenery.

Many of the houses in one particular neighborhood have no windows because they were either shot out, blown out, or broke out. One of the kids from this paneless part of the city flexes his muscles for us. They say he is seven, but he looks about the size of a four-year old. His shirt lifted up while he was demonstrating his masculinity, and I noticed something very strange. His belly button had a tube growing out of it!

Every day or two a group of women and children move through the streets to gather burnables. The not-so-poor-ones who have trees place out branches from day-to-day for the less fortunate to pick up. The women generally are wearing bright colors like lavender and are fully covered. The children are less covered and move about having fun as they fill their plastic bags. Most of these people have limited electricity, water, and certainly no heat. AK-47s can be heard from time to time.

I look down at my hands and notice they are cracking due to the colder, dryer weather, sand, and constant washing of my hands. Black sooty fragments are left behind on Kleenex due to the pollution I breath in. I look up and see where a mortar most likely hit. I think about mortars... How can anyone use mortars in a city where people, for the most part, are merely trying to gather the basic elements of survival? Inside, I wrestle with both my human and logical side over those who send mortars in the city--hitting their own people without even a hint of shame. They have no idea where these rounds will explode and can only adjust and guess at where they will land on further rounds. This action is not just criminalistic, inhumane, and terroristic; it is absolute apathy.

This is so beyond my American, Westernized mindset that I truly believe they (who use mortars and IEDs) are not human. It conflicts with all survival instinct and anything good. I do not see how any god(s), God, Allah, or whatever, in any form, would be the approving "creator," "father," "great," or anything but evil. It is not anarchy but rather a human genocidal schism. In other words, I cannot see how they can be anything but both 1)evil 2)insane.

A gate opens up perhaps half a block down. I see a little girl and mother appear. The little girl is wearing a red sweater and red matching gloves.

They look like they were knit together (it reminds me of the ones I used to get from my grandma). She looks to be 3-4 years old. She's helping her mom put the branches on the street. As I watch her intermittently, I cannot help but think about my own daughter who is roughly the same age. I believe she would be helping in the same way if the roles were reversed.

A little stick gets thrown on the pile. It was a good throw. I smile and laugh a little bit. She notices me. She skirmishes inside. A half minute later, a little bigger branch goes out and up on top again. She stares up at it. I think she's proud of herself. She did well.

I notice a car entering the background three blocks away. I shift focus....

SGT XXX

He writes very well, cardinal. I was disappointed when I reached the end! Will you be able to post more of what he writes?

It does leave you wondering doesn't it but I think it's simply his way of saying he needs to remain on guard. I'll post his articles if they are of interest to anyone here.

I meant to say, I was disappointed because it was the end of his article and I wanted to read more! I wasn't disappointed with his ending... I'm interested in reading his articles......I hope you post them.

Count me in, too, Redbird! Good writing- and I wish him well.

Nice; I remember this time last year; in some of the poorer communities the wooden portion of the school desks were sacrificed for fire material. Hundreds of metal frames left. People do get Kerosene rations but often sell them for other staples.

Any sheppard over the age of twelve was suspisious; it wasn't man's work unless he was taking them to the market for sale.

I hope he has a chance to chew on some oven fresh bread and sample some of the local food.

Tell him to stay safe and thanks for writing; if it's ok email his address and I'll get the neighbors to put together a care package.

Sallam Aliekum to him, may God keep him safe.

Peace.

He sounds like one of many decent, caring, patriotic young men and women
trying to maintain in a foreign environment - spiced with brutality and insanity.

We are a great people, even if at times we are not a great nation.
That has always balanced me in times when government policy
and the results thereof have been stupid and wasteful.

Thank you for personalizing the young man. It lifts my spirit.
He, and many others have succeeded in "seeing", learning...
lessons that I pray our leadership, our citizens will learn from them.
I suspect he has learned many others that he keeps from his family.

I believe God walks with this sort of troop.
Keeping him safe mostly; but also standing by, to lift him
to His house if the final moment comes.
That's the best a soldier can ask for.

I think his next article will come out in February sometime and I'll be sure and post it.






On the way to you - and it's very nice to see you hear from you 1Sgt White - it's been too long.



He is Indianhead, all of that and more
and I don't have any doubt that God walks by his side -
he's always been that kind of guy you see.

If you don't mind, I'm going to pass your posts on to him and his mom in my next email - I know he'll enjoy reading them.

A good read Redbird, I see why he is near and dear to you. An asset to America.