A Day in the Life

Today is my first day off since getting to Iraq, which leaves gives me some time to post. Excuse the spelling errors my spell check failed me. So what I am doing in Iraq and what is my daily life like?

I am a liaison attorney for the Central Criminal Court of Iraq. Coalition Forces created this Court in 2003 to handle cases involving serious crimes such as governmental corruption, terrorism and organized crime that were previously handled by governorate level judges in the ordinary criminal courts. Prior to the creation of this Court Iraq did not have a Central Court like we do in the USA. “Evil doers will face justice in honest and fair Iraqi courts,” L. Paul Bremer III, a quote from Paul at the opening of the Court. The verdict is still on this proclamation, but I don't think too highly of Bremmer, nor his post war planning of Iraq.

I go to Court everyday that it is open which is Sunday-Thursday. The Court itself is located in the Red Zone. In order to get to the Court, a personal security detachment drives the attorneys to the Courthouse in a convoy. During the convoy to the Court, the attorneys and their translators wear their body armour as well as their kevlar hemelts. When we get to the Courthouse we make about a hundred yard trek through the red-zone to get to the inside of the Courthouse.

THE GREAT TREK

Before the invasion in 2003, Saddam used the CCCI building as a museum to store gifts that he received from other despots and dictators. I probably would not store my gifts inside this building because the Courthouse is absolutely filthy. Dirt covers the walls, and the lights shine dimly so that there is almost a yellowish film to the air. Throw in all the second-hand smoke floating around the building and you have yourself a fairly unsophisticated Central Court. Literally all the smoking that goes inside the building would make you think that you're in an episode of Mad Men minus the sophistication. The Iraqis also feel no need to dress up in the Court. Some of the older Arabs wear traditional wear, but others wear jeans etc. Most of the younger workers wear western clothes.

My job consists of presenting evidence to a judge so that they can begin an investigation on one of the detainees that the USA has arrested over the last several years. The Iraqi judicial system is based of the French inquisitorial system. In an inquisitorial legal system it is up to the investigate judge to investigate the crime at an investigative hearing. The judge determines the facts of the case, and is not an unbiased arbitrator like the judges in the USA. He can subpoena witnesses to appear before him. Typically, the judge also has a few investigators working for him as well. These investigators try to dig up as many facts as they can given the realities of the country. It is completely different to our adverserial legal system.

Each day I go to Court I have one or two investigate hearings. I present the evidence I have to the Iraqi judge through a translator, and the judge looks it over. The hearing occurs in the judge's office. Typically the evidence I present to the judge consists of written sworn statements from Iraqi local nationals. These local nationals state that the detainee murdered someone, associated with a certain terrorist group, kidnapped someone, or blew up an improvised explosive device (IED). The judge then brings the detainee into the room and questions him about the accusations. (No females as of yet). The detainee sits right across from me and my translator. He usually denies the charges against hime at all and states that he is peaceful farmer, baker, etc. . Of course since these guys, have been sitting in our interment facility for the past year or more they have plenty of time to get their story down, and learn from others who have been in front of an IH judge. In all honesty most of these detainees look fairly peaceful, but sometimes I will come across a bitter one. I would be bitter too if I was confined for a long period of time as well. The other day a detainee who was accused with Al Qaida cursed me and told me that he wished God's curses upon me. Hope his wish does not come to fruition.

Sometimes the judge will hear live testimony from Soldiers about how they captured this particular detainee, and what evidence the Soldiers found at the detainee's abode. I present this type of evidence to the judge via a voice telephone conference. I often wonder what the judges think communicating to US Soldiers through a TV to the Soldier back in the USA. I am sure when they were young growing up in Iraq they never thought they would be engaging in this sort of active.

The translator does most of the speaking to the judge, and my role is fairly limited. Occassionly, I will ask the detainee a question, but it is the judge's role to investigate. Sometimes, I will get a US soldier to clarify his point or statement, but that is about it. Also, what the Iraqi judges deem relevant is completely irrelevant to me and most US attorneys. The judges seem to focus on the detainees family unit a lot asking questions such as, "how many brothers do you have", and "who is your father", or "what did you do" etc.

Once the judge determines the investigation is complete he will send it up to the trial panel. The trial panel consists of three judges who determine the guilt or innocence of the defendant. The trial takes literally about 15 minutes. Depending on the crime the judges can hammer these guys. Lately though, the conviction rate is falling at a tremendous rate.

In order to obtain a conviction in the Iraqi system, two eyewitnesses need to state that the defendant did the deed. Although the Iraqis are getting better at relying on circumstantial evidence such as forensic evidence, that sort of evidence in and of itself will not carry the day in Court. Prior to January 1, 2009, the Coalition Forces regulary brought Local Nationals to CCCI to testify to the IH judge. Unfortunately, for me those days are over. In January 2009, the US
signed a Security Agreement with Iraq which basically turned the Security over to the Iraqis. On June 30, 2009 the US forces moved out of the cities as well. Therefore, getting witnesses to the Court is virtually impossible. Also, many of these cases are old and so therefore trying to track these witnesses down is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. So, ulitmately most of the cases I bring before the Court will not lead to conviction. We do get dention orders which will ultimately lead to an easier transfer of our detainees to the Iraqis.

Some more reading about CCCI

1.Moss, Michael (2006-12-17). "Iraq’s Legal System Staggers Beneath the Weight of War". New York Times. http://www.nytimes.com/2006/12/17/world/middleeast/17justice.html?ex=1324011600&en=7fa73a4895399700&ei=5090&partner=rssuserland&emc=rss. "

First days in the IZ

Greeting blogs and friends. I arrived at my new job located in the International Zone about a month ago. The internet connection over here is terrible which makes it hard to post to the blog. In addition, a heavy dose of work and addiction to a little drama called Mad Men has kept me away from you blog.

In order to get from my old digs at Camp Victory to my hopefully permanent duty station on FOB Union III I traveled on what the military call a RHINO. It is basically an oversized MRAP (Mine Resistant Ambush Protected Vehicle). The voyage caused me some apprehension as this was the first time I ventured off base into the Red Zone.

Our MRAP traveled down the famed Route Irish. At one point in this war, Route Irish earned itself the nickname of the deadliest road in the world. This route leads from the city to the Baghdad International Airport. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baghdad_Airport_Road The trip over was uneventful, but it gave me the opportunity to observe Baghdad. The first thing I noticed was that there were hardly any cars on the road. Of course the economy in Iraq is still in shambles, but more so than I anticipated. Trash and dust lined the streets.

When I arrived at my new base, my new co-workers greeted me. That night we ate traditional Iraqi food at another base called Prosperity. One of the translators, named Nick owned Lebanese restaurant in New Jersey and he prepared a Middle Eastern feast for some of the attorneys who were leaving. Nick's restaurant went belly-up, but I suspect that is why here now. (The translators make a pretty penny, but that is for another blog.)



(unfortunately some experienced explosive diarrhea for the next several days after feeding on Nick's cuisine.)

After dinner we enjoyed some tobacco out of a hookah http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hookah. The hookah lounge is located in a beer type garden on the US Military base. Although the hookah estalbishment where we smoked tobacco is located on FOB Prosperity, I definetely felt like I was in the Middle East. Both the architecture and the dust that surrounds the lounge is distinctively Middle Eastern. Many of the patrons were civilian contractors as opposed to US military members. Locale Iraqis run the establishment. Our translators ordered both our tea and tobacco for us. I enjoyed getting to meet my new group. They definitely had positive things to say about their time in Iraq. Of course the perpetual filth that surrounds the base, grated on their nerves and most of the JAGS who were due to depart soon, were more than happy to be going home.

Iraq

The mighty C-17

I made it to Iraq on Sunday 04 October 2009 after having spent a week in Kuwait. The training in Kuwait at the Udari range was not as bad as I had anticipated. Basically, I slept on a floor in a classroom for two nights, ate a bunch of MRE's, and fired my M9 pistol again. In my opinion this training was redundant to the training we already did in South Carolina.

The folks who trained us in Kuwait were part of a civilian outfit called MPRI http://www.mpri.com/esite/. Of all the shooting I have done this far, I felt that this training was particularly unsafe. Shells from the shooters next to me were landing on my body and they are hot as hell. However, thankfully I did not flail about when one of these shells landed on me or else the burly instructor who played both Rugby and Football would have been only too happy to form tackle me to keep his range safe.

I flew from Kuwait to Iraq on an Air Force plane called a C-17 as can be seen on the picture above. We descended into Iraq via a military style landing. This type of landing consits of a sharp descent onto the landing pad. The descent was steep and fast, but definitely not nearly as bad as I heard from others who have deployed.

This week in Iraq has consited of training for the most part, and I have done no real work. Currently, I am staying in a Chu (mobile home unit) in Freedom Village located on William Wallace road. As you can tell from the names of various landmarks the freedom theme ring bellows throughout this base. My current mobile home unit is some primo real estate for these parts. I am near the bathroom, gym, and cafeteria or the big three as I like to call them.

On Tuesday I visited Saddam's old palace here on Camp Victory Base. The palace is called Al Faw palace, and is immense, but gaudy not like the European palaces of old. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Al-Faw_Palace Currently, the US forces and at one point the coalition of the willing occupy the palace. It is in this palace where all the Generals and military brass make their daily decisions. In January of this year no longer will MNF-I own this building, but rather just the Americans which will be called United States Forces Iraq or (USFI). As I walked through the palace, I thought that Saddam must be having a coniption fit at the thought of the American forces setting up shop in one of his old palaces. In the palace also hangs a 100 yard United State's flag which is draped against the wall.

The palace also hosts a throne that Yasser Affarat gave Saddam as a gift. Fortunately, the throne is not off limits to the troops and I sat myself down in the chair, and wondered how many times Saddam sat in this particular throne. Interestingly, one of the arabic terms written on the throne reads, "Jerusalem is ours."

The footlift is for Saddam gassing the Kurds..

The main boss of TF-134 works in Uday'sold quarters about a quarter of a mile from the Al Faw palace. Although not as large as the main palace I certainly would not turn my nose up at the digs. One of the highlights for the new attorneys is going up on the roof and getting to see the entire Victory base complex. You can also hit golf balls from atop Saddam's dead lads roofs into the pond. .

Tent City

Blog I am in Kuwait after the longest journey of my life. In it all it took about 26 hours to get from a military base in Columbia, SC to a military base in Kuwait. We ended up leaving on Friday night from Columbia, SC. Cheering the deploying military members on were a group of about 100 plus veterans who wanted to wish the Sailors and Soldiers well prior to their departing the USA. The Vets hosted a party of sorts giving out pizza and donuts as well as other gifts. Prior to boarding our plane, the Sailors marched through a gauntlet of these well-wishing Veterans all of whom wished us good luck and offered us handshakes and hugs. After a week of hearing about how Richland County South Carolina held the highest number of reported cases of swine flu, I thought about giving the VETS the old Donald Trump, "I don't shake hands" but thought better of it.

Our Air Carrier to the Middle East was the Charter Air Line called Ryan Air http://www.flyryan.com/. This a private company that provides charter airline services primarily for the US Military and Sport's Team. The plane was a 757. The service on the plane was impeccable and the staff served us great meals and water on demand. Movies played during the entire flight. The only thing that was missing was cold beer.

After about three hours in the air, the Captain of the plane came on the overhead speaker and told the passengers that he needed to stop in Gander, Canada. Gander Canada is located in the North Eastern quadrant of the North Country in the province of Newfoundland and hosts a large airport that regularly welcomes militaries from around the world. Gander was the largest RCAF base during World War II. When the plane landed at Gander the Captain told us that we needed to refuel and that we would be back in the air in thirty minutes. Thirty minutes turned into 4 hours. The Captain told us that there was some bad weather over the Atlantic. I am not so sure about that one. After our 4 hour delay we headed to Leipzig, Germany. One of my JAG mates and I enjoyed a last brew at the former East German Airport before making the final push to Kuwait.

We arrived in Kuwait at approximately 1:40 am local time. Unfortunately we sat at the Kuwait airport until 5:30 am. Mildly annoying. It turns out that somebody mixed all the Army bags with the Navy bags onto one large bus, and the Army and Navy folks were going to different camps in Kuwait. So in the middle of the night a bunch of Sailors were lifting 50 lb bags and sorting them by branch of service. Why this separation did not occur initially is baffling, blog.

At 7:00 am we arrived in Kuwait at Camp Virigina. It is called a camp because there are no permanent structures on the installation. The camp reminds me of Luke Skywalker's home planet of Alderaan. It is hot, dry, flat and utterly inhospitable. There is also a pervasive odor of rotten cabbage which lingers over the base. This smell can be contributed to diesel fuel perpetually burning to produce the electricty that runs this place mixed with dust and sand. My first thought I considered when I saw Kuwait was why would any human contemplate inhabiting a land with such harsh conditions. I hope that were I a nomadic creature I would have the guts to keep on walking..

BUT leave it to the good ole USA to bring all of life's modern conveniences to the middle of the desert. As I write these sentences, I sit here in a perfectly air conditioned Starbucks with access to the Internet. As I stare out the window into the desert sky I can see the Camp VA's Shopping Mall which consists of a AT @T calling center, a Fed-Ex shop, a sub shop, Mac D's, and a Pizza Inn. A transit bus system is in place to move the troops around base. In addition to all these comforts bottle water is free for all the troops. The military is truly doing all it can to keep the morale high for our troops. However, it does make me wonder about the sheer cost to the US taxpayer to keep this place up and running. The electric bill to keep all these tents and buildings cool must be absurd, and also the cost to keep this camp manned and functional.

I hope to spend about a week in Kuwait before making the push into Iraq. Basically all of the Sailors live in a tent while here. The military is basically trying to get us use to the Middle East prior to sending us to our real jobs in Iraq. My living area is called Tent City. Literally, there are thousands of tents located in a 1 mile vicinity. We sleep on cots situated inside of a large canvass tent. There are six of us housed in one large tent. AC cranks in these tents, so don't worry about the heat. Thankfully, I had a good night's sleep last night and I am feeling pretty good today minus a wrecked stomach.

The inside of My Tent located in Tent City on Camp Va, Kuwait.

Today we learned in some training about Counter Insurgency. It appears that the USA under the leadership of General Pertraeus has really focused intensely on changing its military mission from dealing with regular warfare to dealing with what is known as irregular warfare. Apparently a former Australian military officer by the name of David Kilcullen was instrumental in helping to devise our current strageties. His bio as well as his take on the Iraq war is fasicnating if you get the chance. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Kilcullen

The dining facilities here are execellent by the way. You can basically eat anything imaginable, and many of the soldiers take advantage of the Baskin Robins ice cream bar which is open every lunch an dinner. I am enjoying some of the local tomato salads as well as their kidney salads. I have fell pray to its temptation only once thus far.

Tomorrow we head to the Udari Range http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/facility/udairi.htm. It is a training range located in the middle of Kuwait. We are going to do some convoy training as well as some more gun training. This should be interesting as there is no electricty or running water out there. Again we are sleeping in a tent. Hopefully, this training will mark my final manipulations of my M-9 gun.

Thanks to all of you who have posted on the blog. I miss all of you. Have a lot of fun for my sake.

Should we stay or should we go?

Hello blog. Well my time at Camp McCrady is drawing to an end. The ups and downs of military life are ever constant. On Monday we were told we were leaving on Thursday morning at 0600. This presented quite a dilemma to our group as I still needed to figure out how I was going to pack all the gear that I received in an organized fashion, and still get the chance to visit with my family. Most classes leave on Friday as opposed to Thursday. I also had to make sure my M-16 rifle was clean so that the Armory would accept my weapon.



So I was geared up to leave on Thursday, but... on Wednesday we were told that we were leaving on Friday rather than Thursday. That's fine more time with my family and in the USA, and maybe a final round of golf (this was accomplished). But ...literally, five minutes later we were told that we were leaving on Thursday again, and then about an hour later we were told we were leaving on Friday again and that somebody just put out bad information. If this is confusing to you blog reader it should be.

So our departure date is set for Friday. Of course we had to have our bags on the grinder at 0600 even though they did not get loaded on the bus until 0900. The military must be thinking let's see how tired we can get our Sailors before we send them over into a war zone. And so we are all set to leave at 1000 only to be told that our flight is not leaving until 1900 (if that happens I think it will be a miracle)So now all our bags our packed a la the John Denver song and we are sitting in a boiling hot room in our uniforms with no other possessions except our computers etc. I am washing the foul taste that this day has left in my mouth with a few Stella Artois beers.



Last week received an interesting brief from a 20 year old Army Specialist who grew up in Egypt as a Christian. The subject of the young man's brief was Iraqi culture. While this Specialist kept his brief perfunctory, I was most impressed that this young man without a college education was able to get up in front of a room and deliver a poised presentation in front of a slew of high ranking military officers. Some of the pointers he gave the class included if an Iraqi offers you tea then drink it. The Specialist explained how pride is everything to an Iraqi male and that if you do anything to disrespect an Iraqi male well then you lose a friend and create an enemy. According to our speaker the main way to disrespect an Iraqi is to disrespect their women. American Soldiers attend to accomplish this by wantonly staring at an Iraqi male's wife, or by trying to flirt with them. The speaker told us basically you should act like Iraqi women do not exist. Of course this presents no problem for me. The Specialist also told us several Iraqi words:

1. Shako Mako= Hello (I remember this from the song Shock the Money)

2. Salam Alakom= Peace (Will there every be peace in the Middle East? Hopefully, but doubtful)

3. Shionake= How are You (Let's get drunk on some Shionake. Sounds like an exotic drink to me.)

4. La= No (La! This does not sound like a very strong negative to me as compared to no. If you shouted la 3 times in a row you would basically be singing.)

5. Na Am= Yes



Last week ended with a lovely time with my family. Of course sacrifice makes you appreciate the good times in life, and this certainly was the case last weekend. I appreciated every second I got to spend with my family. This is a cliche, but certainly a true one. When you deprive yourself of life's pleasures it makes you realize just how great they are. I also appreciate the intense sacrifices that our military members have made over the last 8 years. It is tough, but our military serves for the most part without complaint and many times without a clear definition of what exactly the mission is.

So prior to getting into Theater I spend nine days in Kuwait at a place called Camp Virginia. That is where I am suppose to fly to today. We stop first in Lhttp://www.globalsecurity.org/military/facility/camp-virginia.htm I never thought I would be going to Kuwait, and probably would never have purposefully gone to this Country but for my current gig in the military. It certainly does not look like a very desirable, and I hear getting stuck in a sandstorm is utterly brutal. The primary purpose for this trip is to get some more training on how to convoy. Coincidentally, our last training mission at McCrady was a convoy op. I basically sat in a vehicle and did not do anything, and this is how I hope to keep it while in Theater. Prior to arriving in Kuwait we stop in Leipzig Germany Slavic word Lipsk, which means "settlement where the lime trees stand". So next time I write I should be in Kuwait....

Mr. Polite

Blog readers meet Mr. Polite. Mr. Polite is a hulking African-American male who served in the United States Army for over 20 years. He rose to the rank of First Sergeant earning him the nickname of "top". This is what Soldiers in the Army call individuals who make it to this rank in the Army. Coincidentally, First Sergeant Conklin who is our Company's First Sergeant is affectionately called "top" by all of the Sailors and the members of the cadre. Mr. Polite's demeanor reflects his namesake. But as you can see from his picture you would not want to see Mr. Polite in an impolite mood because he can put a hurt on you!

Mr. Polite grew up on St. Helena Island in South Carolina which is an Island in South Carolina located directly East of Beaufort. His mother still lives on Joe Polite road. Small world as of course my parents live in Beaufort, South Carolina.

Mr. Polite is charged with training the Sailors how to use an M-16 and an M-9 pistol. His communication skills are excellent so much so that I suggested to him that he could be a disk jockey or a sports announcer. But Mr. Polite likes what he does though, and he is good at his job. Those other occupations hold no interest to Mr. Polite.

Of course when I first showed up to Camp McCrady, I had never shot an M-16 before, and it showed. Mr. Polite took me under his wing, though, and showed me the basics of marksmanship. When I first attempted to hit a target 200 yard down range, I could not do it. Mr. Polite trained me though, and by the end of the training I was killing targets which was blowing my hair back.

Finally a killer, but let's just hope and pray 9-12-09

This week's training primarily included training with the M-9 pistol, and the M-16 rifle. Never in my glorious life did I think that I would be dressed in full battle gear armed with a side arm and a M-16 rifle simultaneously. The battle gear that the Sailors wear here at Fort McCrady is serious business. It consists of full-plated body army known as IBA. It weighs 80 pounds, and covers the chest, back, flanks, and shoulders of my person. In addition, Sailors wear a Kevlar helmet, knee pads, and elbow pads. In the hot South Carolina sun one can get hot in this stuff after just a few paces, or by merely just standing still, or by sitting in a 45 minute bus ride.



On Wednesday we learned what to do in case our Humvee flips over, or worse goes into water. This training is known as HEAT training which is an acronym for: High Mobility Egress Assistance Trainer (http://asc.army.mil/docs/pubs/alt/2007/4_OctNovDec/articles/52_HEAT_---_Army_Innovation_in_Action_200710.pdf) At the initial stage of the war in Iraq many Humvee were being targeted by IAD's and terrorists and soldiers did not know what to do when the Humvee catapulted onto its side. Due to this lack of training, many of the gunners who sit quasi atop the vehicle were being killed when the vehicle flipped. Soldiers also did not know how to exit the vehicle, and so naturally they panicked which could lead to greater casualties. Basically, the Humvee trainer sits atop a medal steak and can do a 180 degree turn. The Humvee does not move forward, but merely rotates so I don'


When I got to this training evolution I was a little nervous. I did not want to do anything to call attention to myself, or to make a fool of myself. When it was my turn to partake in this training, I got into the vehicle put my seat belt on and locked the door without incident. The operator then flipped the vehicle and the four students in the Humvee yelled, "rollover, rollover, rollover." This is the standard call sign soldiers make when a vehicle is about to flip. The operator turned the vehicle all the way over (180 degrees) and I had to try to exit the vehicle. This was no picnic as the vehicle was upside down, and I was wearing the IBA battle gear with my seat belt firmly secured. The operator flipped the vehicle wice, and twice I had to exit the vehicle only the second time the Sgt purposefully locked my door so that I could not get out from my side. He said I handle the situation well though, and I made my way out of the other door. Mission complete. The key is not to panic in these situations. Unfortunately, one of the older doctors in my company did and she came out of the Humvee balling like a baby with diaper rash. In fact one Sailor in the other Company was stricken by this training due to his claustrophobia that he decided to decline to go on his trip to Iraq. He gave it up, and cried "rescue" which coincidentally was the term that we could use if we wanted out of the Humvee. After the Humvee training we actually got to drive a Humvee. It was not unlike driving any other vehicle except that it is a diesel. It is automatic transmission as well. I drove her about a mile before I ad to relinquish the wheel to another student. As I have heard repeatedly from the drill Sergeants in our cadre (cadre is merely a word for a group who trains people) the Army likes to keep things simple.

It always takes me a lot longer to master things than it does the ordinary person. This was surely the case for Friday and Saturday's M-9 training. For some reason I can't seem to hit the backside of the barn when shooting. I get really nervous that I am going to do something unsafe, and get yelled at so much so that I don't focus on the act of shooting. A lot goes into shooting. There is your aim, breathing, and trigger pull. And with regards to the qualification, you also have to take your weapon out of your holster get it off safe and fire all in a relatively quick time. So on Friday when we went to qualify for the M-9 pistol I was nervous. Unlike the first time I shot the M-9 this time I was shooting in my full battle gear which made it even that more difficult.

On the day of the test, I started off killing targets from 3 meters away. This is not difficult. However when I got to the 7 and 12 meter line I started missing. I did not know that I was missing because I could not see where my bullets were landing. I only know that once I got my score I had not passed. I was one of the only few. I was humiliated and embarrassed- and tired from getting up all week pre 5:00a.m. in the morning. Lack of sleep puts me in a foul frame. cause I know that I have good hand eye coordination. In the afternoon we shot the M-16 which I do not have to qualify on. I found that if I cover my left eye with a patch I can shoot a lot better. For some reason when I try to close my left eye to aim I end up closing my right eye slightly as well which messes up my aim.

With regards to the M-9, after I failed the test a drill Sergeant Price took me aside and starting coaching me. He helped me with the fundamentals. Drill Sergeant Price is a Copenhagen chewing, Southern guy with a thick accent from south Charlotte. He like all the cadre members at McCrady is an Army reservist who was called back to active duty to train us Navy folk who are headed to Iraq. He is a first responder in his civilian. Sergeant Price did not make me feel like an idiot for not passing, but rather he tried to make a bad shooter perform better. He could tell that I had a good attitude and wanted to learn. I asked him if he liked his job, and he said he loved it and that he was going to take great pleasure in watching me pass the test. Well, thanks in large part to Sgt Price I passed the test today and am now qualified. Mr. Polite the man who runs the range and truly is as polite as they come can now call me a killer. That is what he calls all the Sailors on the range. Essentially the only real thing I needed to pass in order to get to Iraq was the M-9, and so I am satisfied, although I know that I can certainly improve on my shooting abilities. Let's just hope that I don't have to call on these skills when I get to Iraq. So long blog.