Iraq
For more than a year, beginning in the winter of 2008, Mike Kelly tracked a National Guard unit from New Jersey to Iraq and back home. Along with photographer, Tyson Trish, he chronicled the story of a single unit – Foxtrot Company – as it trained, then flew to Iraq, then tried to adjust to civilian life again. Foxtrot represented a wide cross-section of America. It included college students, single-mothers and grandparents – even a mother and son. Kelly’s reporting took him from a National Guard armory to a camp in Pennsylvania to the desert in New Mexico and Texas and finally to Iraq. The on-going series of stories, entitled, “Jersey at War,” which included audio/photo stories for the Record’s web site, won numerous awards. The stories selected here are divided in four parts:
The Build up
Desert Training
The Combat Zone
Coming Home
Part I: The Build-Up
Called to Arms:
March 30, 2008
Soldiers Give Up Home Duties for Perils of Combat
Jonelle Windham of Rutherford knows she is part of history.
She embarked Friday on intensive training for her second combat tour in Iraq -- this time, as part of the largest deployment of New Jersey National Guard troops since World War II.
The troop call-up is a significant piece of history for the Garden State and its 21 National Guard armories, home to generations of so-called "weekend warriors."
But since Windham's last combat tour in 2004 with a regular U.S. Army unit, her own personal history has changed, too.
She had a baby.
Her little girl -- Jaelynn -- is just 2 years old and will turn 3 while her mother is away.
"I'm trying to get mentally ready," the 27-year-old Windham said the other day as she packed boxes at a National Guard armory in Morristown. "I know it's going to be difficult."
War is not just about bullets, bombs and barracks' tales. With National Guard units, it is also about the twists and turns of otherwise ordinary people and how so many have to increasingly jump tracks from families and jobs on the home front to carrying guns in a combat zone as the Iraq war spills into its sixth year.
By contrast, the vast majority of us have remained untouched by this war; we neither serve nor are many of us close to those who do.
More than 3,400 New Jersey residents are part of this latest deployment, starting now with three weeks of training in Pennsylvania, followed by a summer of rugged field exercises in Texas and then positioning to three bases in Iraq, including Baghdad and the newly contentious city of Basra. Once considered peaceful, Basra is now the scene of gunbattles between Iraqi security forces and Shiite militia.
Like Jonelle Windham, one-fifth of the New Jersey contingent will be going back to Iraq for a second tour of duty.
While historic for New Jersey, the troop movement nevertheless takes place as the Iraq war grows increasingly unpopular and in the midst of another historic milestone -- the 4,000th U.S. combat death last week in Iraq.
At the same time, the Guard's nominal commander-in-chief in New Jersey, Governor Corzine, has made no secret of his disappointment that the Pentagon has called up such a large number of New Jersey's soldiers. Corzine believes the deployment of 3,400 Guard soldiers could leave the state vulnerable during floods or other natural disasters.
"The fact that we continue to have the kind of overuse of our National Guard is just a mistake," Corzine said.
Indeed, the massive call-up of soldiers -- and Corzine's public criticism -- sparked a series of contingency plans to tap the roughly 2,300 members of New Jersey's Air National Guard to remain on call to help with natural disasters on the home front. Usually, the Army National Guard units are called first during floods, fires or other problems.
Col. Steve Ferrari, who will command New Jersey's troops in Iraq, has another set of problems. "Our biggest challenge has been the lack of time to prepare," Ferrari said. "You're supposed to have a solid year. We'll have just eight months."
What's more, said Ferrari, New Jersey's units, which include infantry companies and artillery, are being retrained to be military police -- no simple task.
"We're being asked to do missions that we don't train to do," Ferrari said.
Amid these weighty questions of policy and planning, though, the deployment of any soldier anywhere is still deeply personal, both for the citizen soldiers and their families.
Consider Myrian Ruiz of Teaneck.
Her husband, Sgt. Wilfredo Ruiz, 49, a maintenance manager at Paterson's post office, has already been overseas -- to guard captured al-Qaida terrorist suspects at detention camps on the U.S. Naval Base in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.
During that assignment, Ruiz never fired his gun at an enemy or dodged a bullet or bomb. Myrian's most profound concern was whether her husband's e-mail and Web-cam connections would work.
This time is different.
As Myrian watched her husband arrange his equipment on Friday at the Teaneck Armory. She had only one wish:
"I just hope he comes back alive."
Maj. Paul Rumberger's chief concern involves not only juggling his three young sons but a new wife -- and a former wife, too.
While he's in Iraq, Rumberger's sons will remain in Cherry Hill -- with his ex-wife, with whom he shares joint custody. Meanwhile, Rumberger's new wife, Katherine, will be with him in Baghdad as a lieutenant in the National Guard.
"It's not your grandfather's or even your father's National Guard anymore," Rumberger said as he organized logistics at Teaneck's armory.
Every soldier is taught the risks of combat. But the reminders are especially poignant at the National Guard Armory in Morristown, home of the 112th Fires Battalion, an artillery unit.
In a glass case on the second floor, across from a Civil War-era cannon, sits a photograph of Sgt. Frank T. Carvill of Carlstadt, one of four members of the unit who were killed on consecutive days in 2004 during the last New Jersey National Guard deployment. Carvill, 51, who worked for the Port Authority and survived terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center in 1993 and 2001, was killed on patrol in Iraq.
"I think Iraq is a little more secure than it was four years ago," said Maj. Robert Bryan as he stopped to look at the memorial to Carvill. "But we all know the risks."
In a nearby office, Sgt. Michael Boettinger, 35, recalled serving with Carvill and how he himself narrowly missed being hit by a roadside bomb.
Boettinger said he was driving a Humvee in a convoy and noticed a small box on the side of a road. He instinctively swerved to avoid the box. Within seconds, a huge bomb exploded.
"It wasn't my time," Boettinger said.
But the incident and other dangerous encounters changed Boettinger. Clad in his U.S. Army camouflage uniform and new boots, he said his first Iraq experience caused him to embrace a basic plan of personal safety that he will carry with him again to Iraq.
"I trust no one unless they are in this uniform," he said, tapping his chest.
Not all soldiers are so sure of themselves.
Sgt. Anita Nicholas of Irvington served in Iraq, but in the 1991 Persian Gulf War as a member of the regular Army's 101st Airborne Division.
But that was a far different war. And her personal life was different, too.
Now in her 40s and returning as a New Jersey National Guard soldier, she leaves behind a husband who will care for a 2-year-old son, an 11-year-old stepson and a 17-year-old goddaughter.
Not surprisingly, worrying about her children has not given her much time to think about her own safety in Iraq.
"I haven't worried about it," she said. "When I get there, I'll see."
***
Our neighbors
The New Jersey National Guard soldiers who will head to Iraq come from a variety of communities.
* Bergen's 208 soldiers live in 48 of the county's 70 towns. They range from 22 soldiers in Englewood, 18 in Garfield and 17 in Teaneck to just one soldier each in Hillsdale, Hasbrouck Heights, Little Ferry, Edgewater, Allendale, Ridgewood and Tenafly.
* Passaic's 249 soldiers come from all 16 of its towns. Paterson has the most -- 149, followed by 45 in Passaic and 39 from Clifton
"Now It's a Reality" : Guardsmen Train for Iraq Duty
April 7, 2008
FORT INDIANTOWN GAP, Pa. -- New Jersey's National Guard is not even in Iraq yet, but already soldiers are shedding blood.
One morning last week, Spec. Marc Indri of Guttenberg practiced jabbing a surgical needle in the arm of Sgt. Gerald Ferra of Dumont.
"Sorry," muttered Indri.
"Don't worry," Ferra answered. "I don't break."
Both men joked afterward and shook hands. But the jabbing and bleeding were a deadly serious rite of passage, the first in a series of intense reality checks for the 3,400 New Jersey Guard soldiers as they prepare for combat duty in Iraq.
Eleven days ago, units of New Jersey's 50th Infantry Brigade Combat Team rolled out of their armories for three weeks of training at Fort Indiantown Gap, a hilly, 19,000-acre base in central Pennsylvania once home to World War II German prisoners and later to Vietnamese refugees.
The New Jersey soldiers, part of the largest deployment of units from the Garden State since World War II, are scheduled in late April to make a brief return to civilian life.
But in mid-June, they deploy again -- this time for Fort Bliss on the rugged Texas-New Mexico border and three months of maneuvers before heading to Iraq in early fall and assignment as military police.
As part of the initial three-week regimen at Fort Indiantown Gap, each New Jersey soldier participates in a class in basic medical care for wounded comrades. One element is a three-day Combat Lifesaver Course in which each soldier has to insert an IV needle into another soldier's arm.
Indri, 23, who is based at the Teaneck armory and as a civilian sold fire extinguishers for his father, has already seen combat in Iraq. But he had never held a surgical needle, much less probed a comrade's arm for a vein.
As with other soldiers who tried, things quickly got messy.
Indri stared intently at Ferra's arm, holding the needle as if he were about to conduct a symphony.
Ferra, 40, also an Iraq combat veteran, looked up. He feigned a smile, then gazed somberly at a muscle as Indri pushed the needle in -- then pushed again, harder.
A stream of dark red blood ran from Ferra's vein, rolled down his forearm and pooled on a table in a puddle the size of a coffee-cup saucer.
"You're hurting me now," Ferra said softly.
"Sorry," Indri said again.
Off to the side, Sgt. Stephen Cosmanic, 37, a former Army medic who grew up in Ridgefield Park and is teaching the combat lifesaving course, winced.
"Even I grit my teeth sometimes when I watch this," Cosmanic said. "But it doesn't have to be pretty. It just has to work."
Whether the soldiers attend classes inside World War II-era barracks or fire their new M4 carbines at ranges scattered across the mid-Pennsylvania countryside, their intensity level has risen noticeably.
Last week, as they packed trucks, buses and Humvees at their armories, many seemed lighthearted. Here, locked into a routine that begins before dawn with breakfast in a mess hall and ends with lights out by 10 p.m., their time is consumed by a series of tests and instructional exercises -- all focused on readying for war.
There is little joking. The mess hall seems more like a monastery. And even a seemingly routine instruction on how to handle the wide-track dimensions of a Humvee is greeted with a profound and all-consuming focus of attention.
Many also turn to veterans such as Cosmanic for advice.
After nine years with the Army's elite 82nd Airborne and deployments to Panama and the Persian Gulf war, Cosmanic joined the New Jersey National Guard. He says the experience of preparing for war is similar for all soldiers.
"No one wants to really think about their own mortality," he said. "For these soldiers, now it's a reality. This isn't your Xbox. This isn't your PlayStation."
In another barracks, Pvt. Nichole Tozzo, 21, of Paterson, cradled her new M4 carbine and brushed back her blond hair. A year ago, she worked at a martial arts school in Elmwood Park.
When she joined the Guard, Tozzo knew she would get a cash bonus, which ranges up to $20,000 for new recruits. But she also knew she might have to go to war.
"We're nervous, but we're excited," Tozzo said.
Her friend, Pvt. Melissa Lau, 21 of Lincoln Park, nodded.
"I signed up knowing I would go. I was OK with that," Lau said, adding: "My parents don't support the war, but they support me."
For Marc Indri and Gerald Ferra, the return to Iraq comes at a time of important changes in their personal lives.
Ferra is now a grandfather -- with a daughter about to be married before he leaves for Iraq this time. Indri, newly married, is the father of a 1-year-old girl.
Neither expected to get orders for Iraq until at least 2010 because their unit had been deployed to the combat zone as recently as 2005. But the Pentagon rescinded its plan to give Guard units a five-year cushion between overseas assignments.
"You got to do what you got to do," Indri said. "I'm trying to deal with that, trying to find the balance. I have to learn to accept. There's a mission that needs to get done. We all have a responsibility."
Ferra, with 22 years of service -- including a year of driving a gasoline truck along a bullet-riddled road outside Baghdad -- was eligible to retire from the Guard. But he's staying.
"I know what has to be done and I know what I have to do," he added. "I have a contract. I have a job to do. I'm going to fulfill my contract."
It's a common combination among many of these Guardsmen and women -- soldierly resignation and mental toughness. If you ask them about Iraq, some concede they don't necessarily agree with the U.S. military invasion. But they quickly add that they joined to serve their country, no matter the circumstances.
Spec. Gregory Walls, 38, of Teaneck, a senior accountant at the engineering firm Burns & Roe in Oradell, enlisted two years ago. One reason, he said, was the $20,000 bonus. Another was his desire to follow a higher calling.
"I like what I do," he said. "But what I do doesn't help anyone but Burns & Roe. There's got to be more for the existence than making money."
Walls, married with three children, did not expect to head for Iraq so soon.
"This is the job," he said. "I don't agree with it sometimes. But I'm here to do a job."
Capt. Donald Kennedy of Waldwick, an Iraq veteran, won't be returning to combat duty this time. He's been assigned to stay behind at his Morristown armory. In some ways, his emotional predicament epitomizes the conflict in many civilian soldiers.
Kennedy is married, with three children, including a daughter born just before his previous deployment. But, as a soldier, he wants to be with his comrades.
"You're torn between the mission and your family," he said as rifle fire echoed from a range in the nearby hills.
Kennedy turned and listened to the gunfire for a few seconds.
"It will be tough to say goodbye to the unit," he said. "I can't put into words how difficult it will be to see them go off."
***
E-mail: kellym@northjersey.com
Fighting by Mom's Side:
May 11, 2008
National Guard Unit, in Many Ways, Is a Family Affair
They are National Guard sergeants, assigned to the same unit at the Teaneck Armory and soon heading to Iraq.
But Carmen Villegas and Felipe Diaz share a deeper bond.
Carmen is Felipe's mother.
Sergeant Mom is going to war with Sergeant Son.
In the long history of the U.S. military, fathers have served with sons, brothers with brothers and, in recent years, sisters in combat together. But military officials in New Jersey and elsewhere say they are hard-pressed to find another instance of a mother and son not only heading off to war, but in the same company.
"This is definitely unique," said New Jersey Guard spokesman Kryn Westhoven.
Villegas and Diaz are part of the largest overseas deployment of New Jersey Guard soldiers since World War II. Early next month, New Jersey's 50th Infantry Brigade Combat Team will go to Fort Bliss in the Texas desert for intensive training before leaving for Iraq in September and their assignments as military police.
"You hear about dads and brothers going to war," said Diaz, 29, a Paterson police officer. "To hear about a mom - it's different."
Mom admits to having mixed feelings.
"It's difficult in the sense that my son is going," said Villegas, 46, a combat medic who enlisted in the Guard in 1979 when Felipe was an infant.
"God forbid something happens to him," said Villegas, who served in Iraq in 2004. "I keep running that through my mind."
About 250 of the brigade's 2,800 soldiers are women. And while Guard officials say they do not have precise figures, they say a large percentage of female soldiers are mothers.
On this Mother's Day, many are trying to find ways to explain to young children that they are not only leaving home but going to war.
"They don't really understand," said Pfc. Luz Campusano of her three sons, ages 4, 3 and 1.
Campusano, a single mother who is a former manager at the Century
21 department store at the Bergen Mall, anticipates that one of her most difficult moments will be celebrating her youngest son's upcoming birthday - the day before she leaves for Texas.
"I think, 'Mommy's going to fight a war,'" said Campusano, 20, also a member of Foxtrot Company. "I don't really know how to explain that to them."
Another soldier from the Teaneck Armory, Sgt. 1st Class Brenda Alston, 43, won't be celebrating Mother's Day with her five children and three grandsons. She is scheduled to leave that day for special training at an Army base in Virginia.
"Every day is Mother's Day to me," said Alston, who in her civilian life repairs machines at the Kraft cheese factory in Fair Lawn and lives in Paterson.
Nonetheless heading to Iraq is not easy, she said.
"Moms have a tendency to worry about little things," Alston said. "In the winter, I want to make sure that the grandkids are dressed properly."
Alston's 21-year-old daughter, Quashanna, the mother of a 4-year-old son, said the idea of her mother going to war leaves her with mixed feelings.
"I honestly don't know what to think," Quashanna said. "I support her, but, at the same time, I'm scared. If I had my way, I wouldn't let her go."
Another mother, Libaba Kure of Teaneck, worries for her 25-year-old twin daughters, Mariam and Amina, who are assigned to the Teaneck armory. Both girls served in Iraq two years ago - but in the same unit. Both are going back, but to different locations.
Their mother is petitioning the Guard for them to serve together.
"I'm not pleased with them going back," Kure said. "I'm terrified."
For Sgt. Carmen Villegas, the prospect of serving with her son stirs up an additional set of motherly emotions.
"Sometimes I wonder if my son should stay home," she said.
At the same time, Villegas says she knows how she will react if her son is injured.
"I've always been under control in emergencies," she said. "Later, when I'm alone, I cry my eyes out."
As if having her son in Iraq is not enough of an emotional burden, it won't be Villegas' only worry there.
Villegas, who is also a grandmother, is getting married this Wednesday to Victor Hernandez, a sergeant in a National Guard helicopter unit based near Trenton. Next January, Hernandez is scheduled to head to Iraq.
So in addition to her son, Villegas will be in the combat zone with her husband.
Villegas, who worked eight years as an oncology nurse at St. Joseph's Medical Center in Paterson, planned on retiring from the Guard this June. But she decided to stay in when she heard of the upcoming Iraq deployment of New Jersey units.
"It's like a family to me," she said of the Guard.
Villegas normally works with a medical detachment at the Jersey City armory. She was transferred two weeks ago to Foxtrot Company.
On her first day in Teaneck, Villegas said other soldiers repeatedly came up and mentioned how much she resembled Sergeant Diaz.
"He's my son," she replied.
Later, at a meeting of Foxtrot Company's sergeants, Diaz was asked to introduce the newest sergeant in the group.
"This is my mom," Diaz said, laughing as he recalled the moment.
Diaz said he expects more of that kind of personal banter. As for his mother, Diaz says she is being very motherly right now to him.
"She gives me a lot of advice about what to pack," he said.
On Mother's Day, mother and son have no specific plans yet. But Sergeant Mom - Carmen Villegas - expects she will be cooking. Sergeant Son - Felipe Diaz - thinks that is just fine.
"I hope she makes meat loaf," he said. "That's my favorite."
Till Iraq Do US Part
May 15, 2008
Wedding with Fanfare Precedes Separate Deployments
The bride wore combat boots and camouflage.
So did the groom.
And, yes, there will be a honeymoon, but not until husband and wife -- and her son -- return from Iraq.
On any day in northern New Jersey, dozens of couples marry, often with some measure of fanfare, fancy outfits and the certainty of spending time together in the immediate future.
But when Carmen Villegas and Victor Hernandez exchanged wedding vows during a lunch break on Wednesday before a municipal judge in Nutley, both showed up in their New Jersey National Guard uniforms with matching sergeants' stripes.
As they clasped hands tightly, kissed and embraced, both knew their time together would be brief, even on their wedding day.
After the 2-minute, 24-second ceremony, the bride went back to work, preparing for duty as a combat medic with a Teaneck-based National Guard unit scheduled to ship out for Texas next month and then to Iraq after Labor Day. The groom, a fuel control supervisor with a Guard helicopter battalion in West Trenton, is slated to head to Iraq in January.
Except for evenings and weekends during the next few weeks -- and possibly a four-day furlough together in late August -- neither expects to see each other in Iraq.
"That would be a miracle," said Villegas, the bride.
"Definitely," answered her new husband, Hernandez.
So why marry -- now?
To understand that question -- and its answer -- you need to first understand something about Carmen Villegas, a former nurse at St. Joseph's Medical Center in Paterson, and how her journey as a National Guard medic sergeant is indelibly tied to her family.
Villegas, 46, enlisted in the Guard 29 years ago, when her son, Felipe Diaz, was still an infant. She wanted to serve, and welcomed the extra income.
Felipe Diaz, now a Paterson police officer and himself a National Guard sergeant, will be at his mother's side in Iraq -- what officials say is the first time in U.S. military history that a mother and son have served in the same unit, the Teaneck-based Foxtrot Company.
It will be Diaz's first time in Iraq.
But for his mother and her new husband, it will be their second Iraq assignment.
On Wednesday, Felipe Diaz stood on the side of the Nutley Municipal Courtroom, with his 18-year-old brother, Roberto, and two sisters, Marcie, 23, and Shareen, 26. His mother walked with her groom through a swinging door with "No Exit" sign taped to it and stepped before a judge.
"I'm very happy for both of them," Diaz said, smiling broadly. "Very happy."
Iraq was not mentioned. But the war and how it will soon complicate everyone's lives seemed to lurk behind each intimate phrase of the wedding ceremony, as a new husband and wife gazed intently into each other's eyes, and an Iraq-bound son stood with sisters he would also soon leave behind.
"Repeat after me," said Judge Michael Viola.
Hernandez nodded, his hands locked with Villegas'.
"I, Victor, take you, Carmen, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love forever."
Villegas repeated the same phrases, pausing on the last word -- "forever."
Then, Sgt. Janet Fowler, a camouflage-clad National Guard medic and Iraq veteran who served with Villegas, stepped forward.
She carried two small black boxes -- matching gold wedding rings that would not be too elaborate for Army duty in a combat zone.
Villegas slipped a ring on Hernandez's finger. Hernandez did the same with Villegas.
And then it was over.
The couple clasped hands again, turned, then paused to stare at their new gold rings and pose for a family snapshot.
"We picked the rings very simple because we knew we were going overseas," Villegas said.
"No bling bling," added Hernandez.
And no special party Wednesday night either -- not even a quiet dinner.
If anything, Villegas said, she and her husband may "try to get to a movie." But even that was unlikely. Soon after the ceremony ended, Villegas learned she had to be at Fort Dix for a meeting at 6 a.m. the next day.
Her son smiled again. Villegas smiled, too.
With a trek to Iraq approaching, there were deadlines for packing and checklists to go through.
"No honeymoon, but that will come in two years," Villegas said.
But before she headed back to her armory, she left instructions for her new husband.
"He's going to start his husbandly duties," Villegas said.
"He's going to do the laundry. He does great laundry."
"It's part of marriage," Hernandez said.
With that, husband and wife put on their camouflage caps, and walked hand-in-hand into the sunny Jersey afternoon -- and their new lives they can not control.
* * *
The family that serves together ...
Can family members serve together in combat?
Yes, but the Pentagon does not always encourage it.
The need for a policy first caught public attention in World War II after five brothers from Iowa -- The Sullivan Brothers -- were killed when their ship was sunk. The Pentagon quickly adopted the "Sole Survivor Policy," which allows a lone sibling to opt out of military service if a brother or sister has already been killed. The movie "Saving Private Ryan," was based on this policy.
In recent years, the U.S. military -- especially local National Guard units -- have increasingly allowed family members to go to war together. In most cases, the Pentagon says, commanders try to assign relatives to separate platoons.
At the Teaneck Armory, Sgt. Felipe Diaz is a member of the same company as his mother, Sgt. Carmen Villegas. But they are in different platoons. Villegas' husband, Sgt. Victor Hernandez, is assigned to a different battalion, based in West Trenton.
Sad Farewells
June 2, 2008
Guard Unit Heads to Desert Training
A dose of reality on an emotional day
For the last Iraq-bound National Guard unit to leave New Jersey, Wednesday was a long day that began with tears and goodbye kisses by dawn's early light in Teaneck and ended at a dusty Army training base in the New Mexico desert.
But no sooner had Foxtrot Company left the Garden State than the reality of war struck home: Two New Jersey soldiers had been killed in Iraq.
The events were unrelated -- Foxtrot's departure from its home at the Teaneck Armory and the deaths of Army Reserve Maj. Dwayne M. Kelley of South Orange and Capt. Gregory T. Dalessio of Cherry Hill. And yet, they were emotionally connected, too, in the way soldiers and their families are always linked by the wounds of war.
Back in Teaneck, at the armory's Family Readiness Center, phones began to ring Wednesday afternoon with calls from worried relatives as the news spread that two Army officers from New Jersey had been lost.
"We had 68 calls in only a few hours," said Sgt. Minnie Hiller-Cousins, a grandmother and school guidance counselor who served in Iraq in 2004 and now advises families. "People are worried."
Meanwhile, for much of the day, Foxtrot's 130 soldiers had no idea that New Jersey's casualty list had grown by two. By the time news of the deaths in Iraq spread, Foxtrot's plane had left McGuire Air Force Base in central New Jersey and was on the way to Fort Bliss, Texas, to join nearly 3,000 other New Jersey Guard soldiers for desert training before deploying to Iraq in September.
'The worst news'
But the paradox of Foxtrot's departure on the day the Pentagon confirmed the deaths of Kelley and Dalessio was hard to ignore, especially among families who had said goodbye only hours before to soldiers.
Kelley, who was also a state police detective sergeant, perished with three other Americans in a Sadr City bomb blast. Dalessio, a member of the Army's 1st Armored Division, based in Germany, died from gunshot wounds suffered in the Iraqi town of Salman Pak.
"It numbs you," said Jovannie Villabol of Teaneck, president of the Teaneck Family Readiness Center.
"We were still dealing with the emotions of the morning after the soldiers left," added Villabol, whose husband, Joseph, suffered nerve damage while serving in Iraq several years ago. "To have this happen was the worst news."
Foxtrot's soldiers gathered at the cavernous Teaneck Armory early Wednesday. After roll call, they filed downstairs to the basement weapons room and were issued M-4 carbines and 9mm pistols.
"The day is here," Foxtrot's commander, Capt. James Egan of Glen Rock, told the troops as they stood at attention and several dozen relatives watched from bleachers.
"I know it's a tough time," Egan said, glancing up at the family members. "Everyone's going to come home. We'll be fine."
Such hopefulness contrasted with many soldiers' sense of danger ahead, though.
Just before he left his parents' Glen Rock home, Egan's father, Tom, a Vietnam veteran, gave his son a silver crucifix medallion that he had worn for years. Egan plans to wear it around his neck with his dog tags. Egan also packed a book: "Arabic for Dummies."
Meanwhile, Sgt. Felipe Diaz, a Paterson police officer in his civilian career, left two video recordings for his young son.
"The good tape and the bad tape," Diaz explained. "The good tape has birthday and Christmas wishes -- all the events I won't be home for. The bad tape is a message in case I don't come home."
Before roll call, Sgt. Brenda Alston of Paterson hugged her husband, Sam.
"The hardest part will be every night when I go to sleep and she is not there," Sam Alston said.
Alston, 43, a mother of five and grandmother of three, left the morning of her youngest daughter's graduation from Eastside High School in Paterson.
"I just told her I love her and wished her good luck," Alston said of Starniquasia. "I wish I could be there. But I can't control everything."
The Foxtrot soldiers arrived in Texas at 1:30 p.m. New Jersey time and were met by a welcoming party from the 5th Armored Brigade, the Army unit responsible for training Guard and Reserve units. The soldiers then boarded a bus to Camp McGregor, a sprawling 700,000-acre training center in Cloudcroft, N.M., that is part of Fort Bliss.
"It's a little hot," Sgt. Dennis O'Brien of Hamburg said Wednesday night as he stood in a food line. June temperatures at Fort Bliss average 95 degrees.
The soldiers will undergo two days of processing at Camp McGregor, then 10 weeks of intensive exercises, including urban combat training. Camp McGregor simulates the Iraqi landscape, with mock cities that include mosque facades.
O'Brien said the mood among the soldiers was "pretty good ... people are talking on cellphones."
Foxtrot is trained as a support company -- meaning that its soldiers assist combat units in a variety of tasks, from running chemical detection machines to repairing trucks. But along with other soldiers of New Jersey's 50th Infantry Brigade Combat Team, Foxtrot has been told its primary mission in Iraq will be to help guard prisoners.
The brigade's assignment to Iraq is the largest overseas deployment of New Jersey National Guard units since World War II.
'I left him sleeping'
Such history was on the minds of many of Foxtrot's soldiers. But as they departed, their personal family histories dominated their thoughts.
"I feel like I didn't do enough to say goodbye," said Spec. Marlene Martinez of Ridgefield, who gave birth to her son, Josiah, six months ago.
"I left him sleeping," Martinez said of her baby, who will be cared for by her mother. "I didn't want to wake him."
"What's going through my mind?" said 54-year-old Sgt. Dennis O'Brien. "I'm thinking that I'm leaving my girlfriend behind. And I'm leaving my parents, too."
After checking weapons and eating breakfast, Foxtrot's troops lined up again. Then, after several throaty Army "hooah" cheers and the snap-click of rifle bolts in a final safety check, the troops walked through a side door to waiting buses.
At that point, a young girl ran to her father, hugged him once again and sobbed softly.
"Don't worry. Don't worry," the girl's father said over and over.
Later, as the three chartered buses slowly pulled out of the armory parking lot for the 90-minute drive to McGuire Air Force Base, relatives and friends rushed forward, pressing their hands to the bus windows to offer one last goodbye.
Handshakes, advice
At McGuire, Foxtrot's soldiers received yet another goodbye -- from more than two dozen senior National Guard officers who lined the runway and greeted each soldier with a hug, a handshake and a few words of encouragement.
The last officer to greet each soldier was Maj. Gen. Glenn Rieth, the overall commander of New Jersey's Army and Air Force Guard units.
"Be safe," Rieth said again and again, as the soldiers shuffled past in single file, their rifles slung over their shoulders with lumpy backpacks.
"It makes me proud that N.J.'s National Guard is a major force protector," Rieth said beforehand. "But I certainly feel the emotions here today, as a husband and a father. All of these soldiers are somebody's father or mother or son or daughter."
A Look at the Lives of Those Who Will Serve
June 22, 2008
The New mother
Marlene Martinez looks across the living room of her Ridgefield apartment -- to a small child's swing and its lime green seat covered by a cloth with pictures of animals.
"I wonder about my son," she says. "Will he still call me 'Mommy' when I return?"
Martinez's son, Josiah, doesn't even call her "Mommy" now. He doesn't speak yet.
He is only 6 months old.
Martinez, meanwhile, is 21, a single mom about to deploy to a combat zone with the Foxtrot Company of the 250th Brigade Support Battalion, based at the Teaneck Armory.
For her, going to Iraq is more than just being a soldier and surviving. She knows she will spend much of her time worrying about her infant son back home and what he will be doing in his first year of life.
"I will miss his first steps, his first crawling, his first words," Martinez says. "I'm trying not to think about it. I don't like it, but this is what I signed up for."
Martinez, a specialist, has dreamed for years of being a soldier.
"Ever since eighth grade," she explains.
She enlisted in the National Guard while still in high school in Hudson County. And even though soldiers were already being deployed to Iraq, she says the possibility of facing combat did not deter her.
"I'm not afraid," she says. "I'll take things one day at a time."
But she concedes that motherhood has changed her outlook, in part because her son's father, also a National Guard soldier, is heading to Iraq as well.
"I'll be thinking a lot more about home now," Martinez says.
Back in Ridgefield, little Josiah will be cared for by Marlene's mother, Mary Fernandez, who lives in an apartment in the same building.
Fernandez, 37, has her hands full, however. She has three daughters of her own -- a 2-year-old and two teenagers -- to keep an eye on.
"I want to assure her that everything will be OK," Fernandez said of her oldest daughter's departure for Iraq. "I want her to be strong enough. But I don't want to show my true feelings. I'm not happy she is going. But there is nothing I can do. I'm just trying to be here for her."
For now, Marlene Martinez spends much of her time trying to figure out what she can take with her. She has her family photographs. She has a laptop and a digital camera. And she has her soldier's uniforms.
But she is also taking a tiny t-shirt that her son wore and the first bottle he drank from.
"It's something that reminds me of the day he was born," she says.
Martinez says she probably could have asked the National Guard to let her stay home. After all, she is still recovering from childbirth. She has been jogging around her neighborhood and doing push-ups and sit-ups in recent weeks to get in shape.
But she says she did not want to let her fellow soldiers down. She also feared the National Guard might have asked her to resign -- and taken away her benefits, which include free tuition at New Jersey public colleges.
"I'd like to go to college and become a police officer," she says.
Martinez has completed two semesters of criminal justice studies at Bergen Community College. When she returns from Iraq, she plans to take more courses.
Her main concern, though, is her son.
She pauses at the thought, then looks across her living room again at her son's swing.
"I'm just trying to spend as much time now with my baby," she says. "I want him to be happy."
The Captain
He sleeps in his boyhood bedroom in a one-story ranch home in Glen Rock, the same room where he once hung his high school varsity letters and poster of "Baywatch" star Pamela Anderson -- the same room where he now packs his duffel bag to go to war.
James Egan is only 29, but already he has seen combat in Iraq, as a lieutenant with the Army's First Cavalry Division. Now he returns as a National Guard captain who commands Foxtrot Company. He leaves behind a father, Tom, who served in Vietnam as a medic with the First Cavalry Division and now volunteers at the town's VFW chapter, and a mother, Noreen, who works as a nurse at the same Catholic grammar school that James attended.
"It's kind of funny, being back with Mom and Dad when you're 29," Egan said. "At the same time, I never figured that by the time I was 29 that I'd have two tours in Iraq."
But he's not complaining.
Even as a boy, Egan dreamed of joining the Army. But recruiters turned him down. The problem: Egan suffered from a chronic digestive disorder.
"That put away the dream for me," he recalled.
Egan's next option was to become a police officer or federal agent. But first he wanted a college degree.
At Rowan University in Glassboro, he studied criminal justice. But a friend suggested he apply to the ROTC program -- and also ask for a medical waiver.
"Every step of the way, it was like I had to reinvent the wheel," Egan said.
But he finally got his waiver.
He graduated from Rowan in May 2001 and put on his Army uniform. Four months later, he was in the midst of infantry officer training when Islamic extremists smashed hijacked jetliners into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.
"I knew at that point I would probably go to war," he said.
Three years later, after completing Ranger training, Egan was patrolling the streets of Baghdad as an intelligence officer with the First Cavalry.
After turning home, he left the Army. He moved to Hoboken and tried civilian life -- and a job as a district manager for a uniform company. He now works for a Connecticut-based firm that sells surgical equipment.
"On any given day, I'm in and out of operating rooms of many hospitals in the area," he said.
As the New Jersey Guard prepared for deployment, Egan was called up for full-time duty. He also moved in with his parents, at the home with the flagpole in the front yard and a sign urging passers-by to "Support Our Troops."
"I don't know if there is anything to prepare you for your son going to war," said Egan's mother, Noreen. Egan agrees. But his thoughts are far from Iraq.
He has been dating a woman from Connecticut for about six months. But when Egan learned he was heading back to Iraq, he says he offered his girlfriend the option of backing out of the relationship.
"She's opted to see what happens," Egan said. "But deployment is difficult. We're going to try our best to make it work. I've got a lot on my plate, but you try to balance it out."
Meanwhile, as he packs his duffel bag in his boyhood bedroom, he has one small frustration.
His old bed is too small.
"When I sleep," said Egan, "my feet hang over the edge. But at least it's home."
Fulfillment of a longtime wish
The Transfer
Ross Gildow was destined to be a soldier.
As a boy growing up in Minnesota, he was surrounded by relatives who had served in the military -- Army paratroopers, Navy fighter pilots and Air Force sergeants.
He was fascinated by their stories, and their "cool" uniforms.
Unlike most recruits, he never complained about boot camp after joining the Minnesota Army National Guard.
"He loved basic," said his mother, Kim Gildow of Victoria, Minn. "It was his Eden. ... He is so gung-ho."
So when Gildow, 20, heard that a friend from New Jersey was going to Iraq, he wanted to go too.
Gildow got his wish: Officials in the Minnesota Army National Guard approved his request for a transfer to the New Jersey National Guard.
"I'm pretty excited," said Gildow, who arrived in New Jersey last week to join Foxtrot Company.
Although his father, Kenjiro, an insurance agent, accepted his decision to go to war calmly, Kim Gildow didn't share her son's excitement.
"I said, 'Go to your room!' " his mother said, half-joking. "Know what? He did. ... He has a lot of respect."
"I support his decision to go," she said. "I am not a believer in this war. Am I excited about his going? No!"
Still, the family threw him a going-away party.
Gildow said he has talked about his decision with his grandfather, Everett, a Vietnam veteran.
"He's a little worried, but he's fine with it," Gildow said.
An avid hunter and outdoorsman since he was 12 -- he bagged a 10-point buck when he was 13 -- Gildow said he'll miss the Minnesota woodlands.
But trading the brutal winters for Iraq's stifling desert heat won't faze him, he says.
"I survived Fort Benning in the summer," he said, referring to the Army base in Georgia where he completed basic training.
Gildow spent his last days in Minnesota visiting friends at the service station where he worked. He even became a kind of unofficial Guard recruiter, answering friends' questions about the military.
"If he were nervous about [Iraq] we'd be sitting down right now," his mother said. "But he's eking out the last days of fun he can."
Gildow, who was considering a career in law enforcement, said he wants to serve his full 20 years in the Minnesota Guard, and maybe join the active Army when he finishes.
"I'd like to try and get into the 82nd [Airborne Division]," he said.
That was grandfather Everett Gildow's unit.
The Brothers
The war in Iraq changed Roger and Dennis O'Brien.
They came back better family men.
"I have a stronger relationship with my sons," Roger said.
"I appreciate life a little more," said Dennis.
The middle-aged brothers, who live a "good jog" from each other in Hamburg, said the strengthened bonds will be a great comfort when they return to Iraq.
Dennis leaves this week for Fort Bliss with Foxtrot Company.
Roger's unit, the 150th Helicopter Assault Battalion from Trenton, deploys in early 2009.
The brothers will celebrate birthdays while in Iraq -- Roger will turn 61, Dennis, 55 -- and will be among the oldest soldiers in their units.
They said they'll miss the backyard barbecues, the brother-to-brother talks, co-workers, the rural lifestyle of Sussex County and, of course, their families.
"I'll leave behind three grandkids [and] elderly parents," Roger said. "You think about that stuff."
Since he returned from Iraq in 2005 -- a platoon sergeant, he supervised the maintenance of Blackhawk helicopters -- Roger said he doesn't hesitate to hug and kiss his grown sons, Christopher, also a National Guard soldier, and Anthony, a police officer in Morristown.
"I wasn't a touchy-feely kind of guy," Roger said. "I'm much more demonstrative with my feelings now. Where there used to be personal space, there isn't anymore."
Roger's wife of 39 years, Toni, isn't thrilled that he's returning to Iraq, but knows, "It's my job."
The fact that Roger is going back to the war zone is a testament to his grit.
He suffered a heart attack before he was deployed in 2005 -- "I had a blockage, they put a stent in," he said. After recuperating for five months, he was medically cleared for duty.
A full-time Guard member, Roger, who served six years in the Air Force, still commutes nearly 200 miles every day to the 150th headquarters in Trenton, where he supervises helicopter mechanics.
Younger brother, Dennis, a former Marine, is just as tough.
But he showed his sensitive side to family and friends when he returned from Iraq.
"My girlfriend, Maria Cassidy, and I became very close from the last time I came back," Dennis said. "She's my life, she keeps me going. I will miss her a lot."
While in Iraq, they kept in touch by e-mail, a practice he will repeat.
Dennis has also grown closer to Cassidy's three sons.
"They treat me like a father," he said.
Dennis, a warehouse manager for a building supply company in Andover, said co-workers wished him luck, but were reluctant to see him go.
"The drivers said the place will be a mess when I leave," he said.
The September deployment will actually be Dennis' third tour of duty in the Middle East. As a Marine sergeant, he served six months in Saudi Arabia during Operation Desert Storm.
Dennis said he is confident that U.S. forces can make a difference in Iraq.
"It's what we got to do to help them get their lives back, so they can run their own country," he said. "Let's hope it doesn't take forever to do it."
The Family Man
Gregg Walls spends hours at a laptop computer in his Teaneck home.
He downloads music to take with him, everything from classical to jazz and hip-hop. But he also double-checks to make sure that his wife has access to computer passwords for bank accounts and financial records.
"Being away a year is daunting," he said.
Walls joined the National Guard only a few years ago - and still stands out as one of the more unusual recent recruits.
He is 38 and will turn 39 in July, the father of two young children. His wife has a successful career as a Manhattan real estate agent. He is a senior accountant with the Oradell-based Burns and Roe engineering firm.
But he wanted more out of life.
"I love Burns and Roe. It's a great company," Walls said. "But what I do doesn't affect anyone outside the company. After a while, you look around for what else is out there."
So he signed up with the National Guard -- while a war was raging.
Besides the chance to help fellow New Jersey residents during floods and other natural calamities, Walls liked the fact that his Guard service offered him free tuition at state colleges for extra courses he wanted to take and a $20,000 bonus.
He just never figured he would be heading to Iraq.
"The way things were supposed to happen, no way was I going to Iraq," Walls said. "The next deployment was not until 2010."
He laughs at the thought, then thinks of his ultimate commander-in-chief, President Bush. Walls is not a fan of the president.
"By then, the crazy man would be out of the White House," Walls says. "But that's not the way it worked out."
Walls, a specialist, accepts this. Part of being a soldier is learning to follow orders, no matter what.
So besides packing, he spends as much time as he can with his children, a 6-year-old daughter, Gabriella, and a 3-year-old son, Ian. Another son from a previous relationship, 20-year-old Christopher, attends Bucknell University.
"My kids are a little on the emotional side," Walls said.
These days, Gabriella likes to show her father where Iraq is on a globe. Walls, in turn, points to Texas -- and the vast Army base in the desert where he will spend the summer.
If Walls has a worry, it's about his 3-year-old son. Does little Ian understand that his father will be gone for a year -- in a combat zone?
"He's a tough nut to crack," Walls says. "I say 'Daddy's going away for a little while' but I'm not sure he understands everything yet."
For his wife, Iris, Walls is trying to set up a webcam on her home computer -- this to augment e-mails and phone calls.
But he's prepared for having to resort to the most basic form of communication.
"If nothing works from Iraq, we'll write letters," Walls says. "Whatever it takes."
Burns and Roe is holding Walls' job -- as the firm is required to by law. But Burns and Roe took the extra step and is paying a large portion of Walls' salary until he returns next June.
"They did not have to do that," Walls said. "But it will make a huge difference for my family. It means we won't have to take a financial hit at all."
For now, his mind is on last-minute details.
Walls is making sure Gabriella and Ian will have rides to school. He checks the house for repairs. He wonders about what else to pack.
"I was thinking of packing my sand wedge, but I decided not to," Walls says. "I don't think there will be much time for golf."
19-year-old savors prom night
The High School Graduate
Dave Monllor had the prom night jitters.
"I'm more nervous than I am about going to Iraq," he said.
Monllor, 19, of Wanaque is one of the youngest soldiers in Foxtrot Company.
But on June 12 the war took a back seat to the Lakeland Regional High School senior prom, held in the cavernous ballroom of The Venetian in Garfield.
His focus that night was on his fiancée, Shana Van Schaack, 18, who graduates from Lakeland this week -- the same week Monllor leaves for Fort Bliss.
"I know a few kids, but not a lot," said Monllor, a burly but soft-spoken 6-footer. He graduated in 2006 from Kearny High School, where he earned letters in football, basketball and baseball.
On the first slow dance of the night, the young couple seemed lost in each other, savoring the moment.
Van Schaack, in a radiant persimmon dress, wrapped her arms around Monllor's neck. He stared straight into her eyes.
"I'm not going to start planning a wedding until he comes back," said Van Schaack, a B-student with two part-time jobs. She cried when she learned about his deployment.
When he goes to war, Monllor will leave behind a small army of well-wishers who are praying for him.
"Dave's a good friend, I worry about him," said Marine Cpl. Carlo Ponsica, 20, of Wanaque, who sat at the couple's table on prom night. "I'd rather take his place [in Iraq]."
"It's scary," said Alexandra Barreiro, 17, a senior at Lakeland and Ponsica's date.
In the small Haskell section of Wanaque, word travels fast.
Parishioners at the Pompton Reformed Church and customers at the CVS Pharmacy in Wanaque, where Monllor was a shift manager, thanked him for his service, and were supportive.
"I'll miss the people. You get close to them," said Monllor, who joined the Guard while a senior in high school, attracted by the college benefits. "It's hard, very hard. You think about it during the day."
The couple met while Monllor was visiting friends in Wanaque. There was instant chemistry.
He proposed on Feb. 15, the day after Valentine's Day, at the intersection of Jackson Street and Whistler Place -- where they first met.
"It was freezing," she said. "I just gave him a big hug."
While at Fort Indiantown Gap, Pa., where the Jersey Guard went for training in April, Monllor's thoughts often went to Van Schaack.
"Not many high school seniors go through what she has," he said.
Part Ii: Desert Training
Desert Warm-Up:Nj Guard Unit Trains for Iraq's Rigors
August 5, 2008
CAMP McGREGOR, N.M. -- Marlene Martinez, new mom and relatively new soldier, volunteered to die one day last week in the red sand of this desolate military training base.
Martinez, 22, a New Jersey National Guard specialist from Ridgefield who gave birth to a boy in January, wasn't really in danger of losing anything more than her dignity. Swathed with the sort of bloody-glop, torn-flesh makeup better suited to a Stephen King horror flick, she pretended to be a battle casualty so soldiers from Foxtrot Company, based at the Teaneck Armory, could practice a simulated rescue amid smoke grenades and recorded machine gun blasts.
"I have an amputated arm and a lacerated leg," Martinez quipped through a wide smile.
This was no joke, though. Nor was it a movie set. Welcome to the short course in combat preparation for New Jersey's citizen soldiers.
Amid the sand, scrub, tarantulas and cactus of one of America's most sun-seared deserts, some 2,800 members of New Jersey's 50 Infantry Brigade Combat Team are trying to hone their bodies, minds and emotions before heading to Iraq next month, the largest deployment of Garden State National Guard troops since World War II.
Their journey here is part of an intense, two-month Army training regimen, aimed at turning otherwise ordinary New Jerseyans into locked-and-loaded soldiers.
And so far, it seems to be working. Base officials say the units are all on course to complete their training by Labor Day.
In Martinez's case, it means balancing her combat training with her suddenly long-distance motherhood -- and the realization that her infant son will spend his first year with her mother. "I just heard he's crawling," Martinez said.
At Camp McGregor, the rules are simple and tough. There is no booze, no leaving the base, no days off.
Soldiers must carry their unloaded rifles or pistols when they leave their barracks -- even as they balance plates heaped high with eggs and pancakes in the mess hall. What's more, they must always stay on guard for simulated attacks and wear high-tech water-bearing backpacks to fight off dehydration as they march with 30-pound body armor wrapping their chests.
As Spec. Greg Appleyard, 22, of North Arlington described his personal transformation: "We're weekend warriors. We deploy once a month. Now it's full time."
With Camp McGregor, the Pentagon is trying to re-create the omnipresent tension of Iraq, even down to the daily Muslim prayer calls over speakers attached to telephone poles and traffic signs that include instructions in English and Arabic. Each day, soldiers test themselves in a variety of skills, from shooting, map reading and driving Humvees, to hand-to-hand fighting, guarding prisoners, crawling under barbed wire and searching houses in a mock Iraqi village with insurgents dressed in Middle Eastern clothes.
Most soldiers seem to agree on the most difficult challenge here: surviving the intense sun and 95-degree temperatures of New Mexico, which are mild compared with Iraq.
"You can train and train," said Sgt. Brenda Alston, 46, of Paterson, a grandmother of three and mother of five. "But when you're overheated, it hits you hard."
Since leaving New Jersey in late June, Alston has dropped 11 pounds. Her weight loss is hardly unusual, though. Their commanders say that the New Jersey soldiers have lost an average of 10 pounds each -- the equivalent of 14 tons across the brigade's 2,800 soldiers.
Foxtrot Company has one of the brigade's weight-loss leaders, Pvt. 1st Class Jose Mercedes, 22, of Jersey City, the unit's flag bearer.
When Mercedes left New Jersey in late June, he topped the scales at 273 pounds. He's now 250 and getting slimmer, he said.
"I'm pushing for 230 when I leave for Iraq," he said. "When I come home from Iraq I want to be a solid 200."
To be sure, the soldiers' concerns extend beyond weight loss and dehydration.
Foxtrot's commander, Capt. James Egan of Glen Rock, said the passing of the first month at Camp McGregor was especially traumatic, with soldiers confronting a wide range of problems back home -- from relationship breakups to spouses having to deal alone with unruly children.
"They've come a long way in a month," Egan said of his 130 soldiers. "But it seems like the one-month is a landmark, a struggle point for a lot of people back home. It's just the realization that it's been one month and we have 11 more of these to go. It's tough."
One Foxtrot soldier is recovering at the Fort Bliss Army hospital in nearby El Paso, Texas, after emergency surgery to repair a heart valve. Another went back to New Jersey to attend a relative's funeral.
Still another, Spec. Randal St. Louis, got a life-changing cellphone call last week. His wife, whom he married a month before leaving the Teaneck Armory, is now pregnant. With the baby due in March, St. Louis is hoping the Army will let him fly home from Iraq under a special plan that allows soldiers to come home for the birth of a first child.
"Thank God I have my cellphone," St. Louis said.
Still other soldiers share an understandable worry: Can they handle the pressure in Iraq?
"Some of the kids can't wait to go. Others are apprehensive," said Foxtrot's first sergeant, 43-year-old Scott Card of New Milford.
At 26 years old, Foxtrot's second-in-command, Lt. Sarah Bernal of Teaneck, is heading to Iraq for the second time. On her first deployment, she drove a truck -- a 5-ton target for insurgents' bullets and bombs that left her with a simple philosophy about combat: "You can't face everything with fear," Bernal said. "You have to have hope and trust."
But for all the training and advice from Iraq veterans like Bernal, there are always unexpected problems and accidents.
As she lay on a stretcher in her role as an injured soldier for a combat lifesaving drill, Marlene Martinez rubbed her chin and frowned. A training sergeant asked if she was OK.
"I'm all right," Martinez said. "But when they carried me on the stretcher, somebody hit me with the butt of a rifle."
Martinez looked up at her comrades.
"It could be worse," she said.
***
Intense schedule
During its nearly two months in the New Mexico desert, Foxtrot Company is training in a number of key areas that are critical to success in Iraq:
* Combat lifesaving: 4 days
* Arabic language: 10 sessions of 4 hours each
* Marksmanship: 5 days
* Handling detainees: 20 days
* Assaulting various obstacles: 1 day
* Protection from biochemical and nuclear attacks: 1 day
* Hand-to-hand combat: 3 days
* Land navigation: 2 days
* Free time*: 4-day pass for each soldier in late August
*Only if Foxtrot satisfactorily completes all other tasks.
Guardsman Finds Way to Keep His Barbering Skills Sharp
August 6, 2008
Sidebar:
CAMP McGREGOR, N.M. -- Until the National Guard called him for duty in Iraq, David Morera had an active calling as a barber in Englewood. Now, training at this desolate base with 2,800 other citizen soldiers from the Garden State, Morera has not forgotten his craft.
Morera, 27, is cutting hair almost every night -- or whenever he can find the time between the rigorous regimen of marksmanship, combat lifesaving and other training. His shop is the open air outside his tent. His floor is the red New Mexico desert sand.
His price: $8, which is $2 more than the Army's barbershop (That's right; the Army charges for haircuts.) But Morera says he offers something extra -- and it's not just a chance to get a closer look at his tattoos. He seems to have no shortage of customers calling his cellphone for appointments.
"I use a straight razor," he says. "I take my time. The soldiers seem to like that."
* * *
In Mock Village, Real Situations: Preparing for Iraq
August 7, 2008
Sidebar:
CAMP McGREGOR, N.M. -- The buildings are low, square, with graffiti scribbled in Arabic on the walls. Two women in scarves and robes step onto a sandy street. Nearby, a man in an Arab headdress with an AK-47 semiautomatic rifle ducks behind a wall.
Just another day of training for the New Jersey National Guard as it prepares for duty in Iraq.
As part of a strategy to inject realism into preparation for the deployment, the Army built "Al Hadiz," a small mock-village on a road leading to an old missile test site at this base in the New Mexico desert.
Each day, soldiers practice patrolling streets, searching homes and even trying to speak a few words of Arabic; local residents and retired soldiers play roles that range from ordinary Iraqi villagers to gun-toting insurgents.
The goal is for soldiers to learn how to quickly assess danger -- not easy, says training coordinator Maj. Shawn Johnson.
"We're trying to teach them how to safely approach and clear a room," said Johnson. "This is one of the most difficult jobs any soldier has to learn."
Heartfelt Reminder of 2 Fallen Comrades
August 8, 2008
Commander's Bracelet Keeps Their Memory Alive
Sidebar:
CAMP WESTBROOK, N.M. -- Soldiers carry all manner of mementos into battle. Capt. James Egan of Glen Rock wears a silver bracelet with two names.
"These are two soldiers I lost in Iraq," he said.
Egan, 29, commands the New Jersey National Guard's Foxtrot Company, based at the Teaneck Armory. But in 2004, he was a newly commissioned lieutenant with the Army's 1st Cavalry Division.
Not long after the division entered Iraq, the insurgency, which crippled the country for several years, broke out in full force. Two soldiers from Egan's platoon -- Spec. Ahmed Cason, 24, of Alabama, and Sgt. Adam Estep, 23, of California -- were among the early casualties.
Now as Egan returns to Iraq as a captain, with 130 soldiers, he still thinks about the two comrades lost in 2004.
"For me, hanging over my head is [that] I want us to come home together," Egan said of his Foxtrot soldiers. "To do that, we have to work hard and keep together."
Foxtrot's soldiers know about Egan's bracelet and why he continues to wear it.
"It lets them know how serious this is," Egan said. "You can't take your mind off what you're doing. You have to maintain the battle focus."
* * *
He's Longing for the Fight
August 9, 2008
Top Boxer Puts Career on Standby
CAMP WESTBROOK, N.M. - Like many New Jersey National Guard soldiers training at this isolated base, Sgt. Houdine Moore misses home. But the piece of New Jersey that Moore yearns for most surprises even his fellow soldiers.
He wants to throw a punch.
Moore, of Newark, is an amateur boxer. At 24 years old and 245 pounds, he could be embarking on a professional career. Certainly, many expected that after he won the 2007 New Jersey Golden Gloves super heavyweight title.
But Moore, who waits tables at a Friendly's restaurant in Morris Plains, put on his uniform and picked up his rifle -- for a second deployment to Iraq with Foxtrot Company, based at the Teaneck Armory.
"This is what I signed my National Guard contract for," said Moore, who enlisted in 2002.
Each day, Moore rises before other soldiers or stays awake later, so he can run 3 to 5 miles and go through a set of boxing exercises. "It's good. I'm away from all the distractions back home," he said.
Is he a star of Foxtrot's hand-to-hand combat training?
"I won't throw a punch without my gloves on," Moore says. "In boxing it's not how strong you are. It's how long you can be strong."
Moore plans to contend for the Golden Glove title as soon as he gets home - in 2009.
* * *
Riot Ready:
August 10, 2008
Soldiers Train Hard for Duty as Prison Guards
CAMP OUTLAW, N.M. -- Felipe Diaz, Paterson police officer and New Jersey National Guard sergeant bound for Iraq, put down his gun the other day at this remote desert training base and picked up an unlikely tool of war -- a shield.
Except for its clear-plastic design, Diaz's protective shell seemed more suited to a Roman centurion 2,000 years ago, not a 21st-century American soldier in camouflage.
"This is a whole new ballgame," said Diaz, a member of the Teaneck-based Foxtrot Company.
That's an understatement.
The Pentagon has given Diaz and most of the 2,800 other soldiers of New Jersey's 50th Infantry Brigade Combat Team the unfamiliar, politically sensitive mission of guarding captured Iraqis.
With their summer of training coming to a close, Foxtrot Company and other New Jersey units are swinging into an intense immersion regimen on how to handle prisoners. Besides plastic shields and other non-lethal gadgets, the soldiers take computer classes in Arabic culture and language and are encouraged to empathize with the plight of some detainees.
But behind almost every lecture and training exercise are two words -- Abu Ghraib -- and the indelible set of 2004 photographs showing a small group of U.S. Army reservists forcing captured Iraqis to strip naked and pose in sexually suggestive positions.
As the Army points out, Camp Outlaw was built on the sands of New Mexico's rugged chaparral to head off another Abu Ghraib scandal in the sands of Iraq.
"We wouldn't be here if that had not happened," said Maj. Pamela Cooper, deputy commander of Camp Outlaw, which is meant to replicate a U.S. prison camp in Iraq, right down to the coiled barbed wire, the wooden guard towers, searing desert heat and actors in Arab dress.
With violence subsiding across Iraq in recent months, military authorities at Camp Outlaw and amid the soldiers tents of nearby Camp Westbrook make no secret of their desire to steer clear of fallout from anything resembling the Abu Ghraib scandal, which resulted in the jailing of some soldiers and others being stripped of rank.
"No one wants to relive that episode," Cooper added. "We're working hard to avoid it."
By the end of 2008, some 20,000 U.S. soldiers will have passed through Camp Outlaw in four years on the way to Iraq, with almost half of their training focused on the delicate balance of guarding prisoners without abusing them.
The drilling is intense. The troops are required to endure a shot of eye-stinging oleoresin capsicum, or pepper spray, as one of their first lessons -- teaching them the pain prisoners might face if they are doused.
"The concept is that you get sprayed so you fully understand what you're using and don't use it in haste," said Capt. James Egan of Glen Rock, Foxtrot's commanding officer. "They want you to understand what it does to someone else. They only way to do that is to get sprayed."
So far, no New Jersey unit has been assigned to Abu Ghraib prison itself -- most are headed to a sprawling prison camp of 20,000 inmates near Basra. And while the Basra deployment will keep most soldiers out of direct combat, their role as prison guards is nonetheless laced with potential international consequences.
Across the Arab world and elsewhere, Abu Ghraib's photos still reverberate.
"When I review the Arab press, the general idea is that Abu Ghraib was not an exceptional case," said Professor Riad Nasser, director of the Middle East Studies program at Fairleigh Dickinson University in Madison. "The incident is seen in the Arab world as part of the way Americans view the Arabs and how they treat them. It still resonates in a very negative way."
Likewise, New Jersey National Guard leaders are keenly aware of the delicate nature of their Iraq prison assignment and how even the smallest slip by one soldier could ripple across the globe.
"It's fairly widely held perception that the Army can't afford another Abu Ghraib," said a New Jersey brigade spokesman, Maj. Jon Powers. "If we're successful, we'll be able to erase the memory of Abu Ghraib and the Army can move forward."
"You learn from your mistakes," said Lt. Sarah Bernal of Teaneck, the deputy commander of Foxtrot Company. "After Abu Ghraib, we took steps back in Iraq. We don't want to repeat that."
Teaching respect
On a dusty, sun-seared landscape that is home to fist-sized tarantulas and moths as large as sparrows, Foxtrot Company is spending two weeks learning how to guard Iraqi prisoners. On Foxtrot's first day here, in the unit's opening lecture, the legacy of Abu Ghraib was brought front and center.
"Remember the pictures a few years ago? What did that do to our image?" said an instructor, Sgt. Victor Hernandez, as Foxtrot's soldiers sat in silence on folding chairs inside a circus-like tent. "It only takes one person to bring everything down. With history, it's not what you did right. It's what you did wrong."
Hernandez told the Foxtrot soldiers that they should not refer to detained Iraqis as "prisoners."
"They're detainees," Hernandez said. "Some did nothing wrong. They were just swept up, in the wrong place at the wrong time."
He also encouraged soldiers to question an officer about a command that may seem abusive.
"We need to treat them humanely, with dignity and respect," Hernandez said of captured Iraqis. "The line, 'I did not know,' does not apply. Ultimately you are responsible for your own actions."
And that lecture was just the beginning.
Before Foxtrot departs around Labor Day for Iraq and its assignment to the detention camp near Basra, the unit's soldiers will undergo a series of additional exercises aimed at testing their patience and quick thinking.
One evening last week, the unit was assigned to guard the gates of a mock prison camp. A group of actors, dressed as Iraqi civilians, approached.
"It's important for the soldiers to understand the cultural differences," said Abdul Hussain, an Afghan immigrant who settled in nearby El Paso, Texas, and was quickly hired as an actor by the Army.
"I feel like I am serving my country," said Sean Doughty, who runs a local refrigerator repair business by day and plays a suicide truck driver at night, even though he looks like he belongs more in Dublin than Baghdad.
Over and over during the four-hour exercise as Hussain, Doughty and other actors came up, a squad of Foxtrot soldiers faced a difficult question: Were these civilians innocent or dangerous?
"You have to stay alert," said Sgt. Harriet Wilson of Jersey City, who works as a guard at the Hudson County Jail when she is not serving in the National Guard. "Things can go from nothing to a big riot."
One group of Iraqis played the role of prison workers. After a check of identity cards and a frisking, the soldiers allowed the workers to pass through.
Specialist Kemesha Smith, 20, of Paterson, a student at Bergen Community College, saw the moment as a chance to practice a few Arabic phrases. But when Smith spoke Arabic, the group of actors, which includes several Hispanic women, did not respond.
Smith paused, then tried a few lines of Spanish. The women smiled shyly and answered her -- in Spanish -- as Smith chuckled.
Moments later, another group of actors approached. This time, the group included a man hiding a package under his belt.
The package was meant to be a bomb. Suddenly, the man dashed ahead of the group and attempted to set off the bomb -- mimicking a real-life suicide bomber.
But the Foxtrot soldiers were ready for him. With Wilson and Smith manning M4 carbines, loaded with blanks, at a guard post, the soldiers shot the bomber.
The next morning, Foxtrot practiced controlling crowds with non-lethal methods, ranging from plastic shields to firing beanbags with shotguns. Later that day, with sweat glazing their faces in the blinding sun, members of the company stepped forward to endure a squirt of pepper spray.
"It's nothing I can't handle," said Sgt. Brenda Alston, a grandmother from Paterson. "It's part of the training."
***
What's changed
* Rules on interrogations: New Army regulations outline what military intelligence officers cannot do during interrogations. Among the new regulations: no use of military guard dogs.
* More accountability: The Pentagon set up several new offices to monitor treatment of military detainees. In addition, a two-star general oversees all prison operations overseas, along with a deputy assistant secretary of defense for detainee affairs.
* Better cooperation with the International Red Cross: The Pentagon now requires that all Red Cross reports on detainee treatment be forwarded to military lawyers.
* New units: The Army established 35 new military police units to address shortages.
* Better training: The Army established Camp Outlaw in New Mexico for National Guard units and others, including Marines, who might be assigned to guard detainees in Iraq. This includes study of Arabic language and culture.
***
What's next
* Next two weeks: Intensive exercises on crowd control, quelling prison riots, manning prison gates and handling questions from Iraqi detainees, played by a variety of amateur actors.
* Around Aug. 23: Foxtrot, along with other units, goes through a series of readiness tests.
* Last week of August: If Foxtrot passes all tests, the Army grants soldiers a four-day pass to leave the base. But soldiers are not allowed to travel farther than 150 miles from Camp Westbrook, Camp Outlaw or Camp McGregor. Most soldiers say they plan to check into hotels near El Paso with family from North Jersey.
* After Labor Day: The 2,800 members of New Jersey's 50th Infantry Brigade Combat Team -- including Foxtrot Company -- begin departing for Kuwait in planeloads of roughly 400 soldiers.
* Through mid-September: Foxtrot and other New Jersey soldiers stay in Kuwait and go through a series of additional tests, including recalibrating their weapons.
* Late September: The soldiers depart for three main camps in Iraq -- in Basra, Baghdad and an area north of Baghdad.
Home Front
August 17, 2008
Troops Will Need Support Later, Too
Editorial:
ALMOST 3,000 men and women -- the largest deployment of New Jersey National Guard troops since World War II -- are nearing the time when they will leave for Iraq.
They are in the New Mexico desert completing training for their mission, which will be mainly to guard Iraqi prisoners. That assignment is expected to keep most of them out of direct combat, which may bring some comfort to the families Foxtrot Company left behind when they said goodbye at the Teaneck Armory earlier this summer. But the constant danger and stress of being in a war zone will still be present for New Jersey's 50th Infantry Brigade Combat Team.
Record Columnist Mike Kelly and Staff Photographer Tyson Trish reported recently from the training camp where the intense two-month regimen will be completed by Labor Day. The training is essential to prepare and protect them. It's equally essential that, when they come home sometime next year, they have easy access to support services to make the transition from war back to everyday life. That transition may be far more difficult for some veterans than they expect.
As combat in Iraq and Afghanistan has dragged on, federal veterans services have been expanded to handle mental health issues, stress, substance abuse and the other aftereffects of war. But they are still woefully inadequate.
The particular needs of National Guard troops also must be met. A study of New Jersey Guard members who have returned from Iraq in recent months found that more than one-third had alcohol-related problems, but many did not receive treatment.
And in a military report published in the Journal of the American Medical Association last week, researchers found that National Guard and Reserve combat troops are more likely than active-duty soldiers to develop drinking problems. The study found they are often ill prepared for the stress of war and the reduced access to support once they return.
New Jersey's Department of Military and Veterans Affairs has established a hot line (866-VETS-NJ4U) and mental health services to augment federal programs. Governor Corzine also added $1.3 million to the department's budget for counseling for post-traumatic stress disorder, suicide prevention and other mental health needs. That's helpful, but more may be needed.
As they prepare for war, New Jersey's citizen soldiers should not also have to worry about whether they'll get all the help they may need to resume their lives when they return.
N.J. Guardsmen Head for Iraq
September 6, 2008
Goodbyes and Family Fill Days to Departure
EL PASO, Texas - The company commander did laundry. A senior medic shopped for back-to-school backpacks for her grandchildren in Paterson. Another soldier got married. At least four others got engaged.
Such were the final, four days of stateside civilian life for the soldiers of Foxtrot Company before their departure for Iraq this week with 2,800 members of the New Jersey National Guard.
For any soldier, a brief, beer-soaked furlough before heading off to a war zone is a rite of passage perhaps as old as war itself, and even chronicled in such iconic American musicals as "On the Town." The Navy's nickname for this sometimes bacchanal-like tradition says much about its supposed purpose: Liberty.
But just as every war is different, so is every pre-deployment breather, especially for a National Guard unit like the Teaneck-based Foxtrot Company, whose roster of roughly 120 soldiers ranges from men and women barely of legal drinking age to baby boomers worried about retirement.
Here are scenes from Foxtrot's last pass in this dusty West Texas city after two months of training in the harsh New Mexico desert:
'Let's go to the beach'
"We'd like to rent a boat," Staff Sgt. John Roldan of Cliffside Park proclaimed as he walked into the marina at the Elephant Butte Reservoir, 140 miles north of El Paso. It's in the rock chaparral of New Mexico near a town named after the TV game show, Truth or Consequences.
"They're trying to cram everything into a few days," Roldan's wife, Adriana, said as she turned and smiled.
But the woman behind the marina counter shook her head. No boats today, she said. The marina was closed.
"But we came all the way from Jersey for this," Roldan said.
"And we're going to Iraq in a few days," added Spec. Greg Appleyard of North Arlington.
The answer was still no.
The Foxtrot soldiers looked at each other. It had been two days of dinners and partying -- highlighted by a birthday bash for Roldan and two other soldiers the night before at an El Paso hotel.
Suddenly a soldier shouted: "Let's go to the beach."
Minutes later, the group -- with wives and girlfriends -- jumped into the lake.
The soldiers splashed each other, lifted the women on their shoulders. Then, they quieted, formed a circle and just hugged.
"We're saying goodbye twice," said Pfc. Alex Basile of Mahwah.
The first goodbye was in Teaneck, in late June, with soldiers waving from buses as they left for a plane to take them to New Mexico, for the kind of desert training that would toughen them for Iraq.
"It's now much more emotional," said Basile, 21, who delivered pizza and worked in his father's auto-repair shop before being called up with the Guard.
Basile quieted. His fiancée, Marisa Donofrio, 18, crouched and scratched the couple's initials in the sand.
Basile and Donofrio wanted to marry before Foxtrot left New Jersey, but there wasn't enough time for all the arrangements. So they're planning a wedding when Basile returns.
"Hopefully," Basile said, "we get to start our lives then."
A marriage proposal
Ross Gildow wanted to pop the question. But how?
Among Gildow's considerations: the right time and place. But after two days with his girlfriend, 18-year-old Molly Ratalsky, the 20-year-old Gildow still had not found the moment.
There was the cable-car ride to the top of the Franklin Mountains that overlook El Paso. And there were dinners at a few local restaurants with his friend from Foxtrot, Spec. David Monllor, 20, of Wanaque, who was already engaged to his hometown girlfriend, 18-year-old Shana Van Schaack.
Finally, Gildow a Minnesota guardsman who transferred to New Jersey specifically so he could serve in Iraq, just paused in the doorway of his room at the Holiday Inn and whispered in Ratalsky's ear: Will you marry me?
Then, he produced a diamond ring.
Ratalsky said yes.
Hours later, in the Holiday Inn lobby, the couple smiled and joked with other Foxtrot soldiers, knowing they were only days away from leaving for Iraq.
"After this," said Spec. James Diana, 23, of Maywood, "it's game time."
Indeed, the thought of leaving loved ones and family framed almost every conversation of every soldier during the four-day furlough.
Across the hotel lobby from where Gildow and his fiancée talked excitedly about their wedding, another couple, Spec. Lisandro Rosario of Paterson sat quietly with his wife, Brenda, and their 18-month-old son, Branden."We have a lot on the table right now," said Rosario, a Passaic County sheriff's officer, as he hugged the boy and watched the other soldiers mingle in the lobby with Gildow as Ratalsky showed off her diamond ring.
"I thought the time was right," Gildow said to the group as he explained why he saved his marriage proposal for the furlough.
Rosario smiled at the words. Time was on his mind, too.
"I don't want to miss out on any family time," he said.
The tattoo parlor
The stereo speakers blasted Green Day's "Having a Blast."
Spec. Ryan Davenport, 22, of Paterson, a former assistant manager of the Lids store at Garden State Plaza, paused in the doorway of Unbreakable Tattoos, a small shop at the north end of El Paso.
The song stopped and the buzz of tattoo needles filled the silence. From a wall, a charcoal drawing of Grateful Dead guitarist Jerry Garcia looked on.
Tattoo artist Luis Renova walked up.
"We'd like to get tattoos," Davenport said as his friend, Foxtrot Pvt. Denise Cain, 20, of Jersey City, nodded.
"We've had at least 10 New Jersey soldiers this week," Renova said. "Soldiers just want to have a way to express themselves when they're out of uniform."
Cain asked for her initials -- D.C. -- with a ring of stars for her wrist. Davenport chose a cross with Rosary beads.
"Behind this cross is a very spiritual journey," he said.
Several months ago, Davenport faced a choice. While playing a pickup soccer game, he tore ligaments in his left knee. If he had surgery -- as doctors urged -- he would miss going to Iraq with Foxtrot.
So he skipped surgery and now wears a brace for support.
"I can run and keep up well," Davenport said. "But it hurts."
He paused.
"This is my company," he said of Foxtrot. "It's like a family. If I did not go with them, I'd feel I was letting them down."
Airport goodbyes
It was the last afternoon of the last day of the four-day pass.
Around a table at an El Paso airport bar, Sgt. Houdine Moore of Newark huddled with a 44-ounce margarita. He had already bid goodbye to his mother and girlfriend and put them on a flight back to Jersey.
"Everybody's sad," said Moore, a New Jersey Golden Gloves boxing champion who could not defend his title this year because he is going to Iraq with Foxtrot. "This is the mourning period."
Across the table, Sgt. John Rodriquez of Hackensack sipped a whiskey and cola. An hour before, he had said goodbye to his wife, his mother and his aunt.
"El Paso is definitely not a vacation spot," Rodriquez said. "But we had a great time."
"We didn't drink much with our girlfriends because we didn't want to be messed up," said Spec. Michael Gonzalez. "So now we're having a last one."
Moore, who rarely drinks anyway because of his boxing training, nodded.
"This is our last drink until 2009," he muttered.
Upstairs, a loudspeaker barked -- an announcement for a plane departing for New Jersey.
"This is a repeat of what we went through when we left the Teaneck Armory," Spec. Aziz Robinson-Johnson of Paterson said as he hugged his wife, Hattie.
"But this is easier," he added. "We know what to expect."
Robinson-Johnson kissed Hattie one last time. She turned and boarded the plane.
As her husband walked out with other soldiers, they met Foxtrot's first sergeant, Scott Card of West Milford, who had just bid goodbye to his fiancée, Brenda Bishop, and his father, Aaron.
"It's like a Band-Aid," Card said of the departures. "The only way to deal with it is to rip it off quick."
Last splash
The sun was setting. Most loved ones had gone. A few soldiers were hanging by the Holiday Inn pool, singing a homemade doggerel:
"We're going to Iraq. We're going to Iraq. We're going to Iraq...."
"These four days went too fast," said Spec. Jose Mercedes, 22, of Jersey City.
"We love to dance," said Spec. Miguel Villacencio, who runs a grocery in Clifton with his wife, Blanca. "We tried to dance each night."
Across town at another hotel, Foxtrot's commander, Capt. James Egan of Glen Rock, had spent a quiet afternoon with his girlfriend, Samantha. But Egan realized he had one last job -- to wash his uniforms and pack them for the trip to Iraq. As dinnertime approached, Egan hovered over a washing machine and dryer.
In yet another hotel, Sgt. Carmen Villegas-Hernandez of Paterson, a nurse who is serving in Foxtrot with her son, Sgt. Felipe Diaz, a Paterson police officer, wondered whether she should go to a bookstore to pick up reading material for the long plane ride to Iraq.
Back at the Holiday Inn, Sgt. Carlos Pena, wandered down to the pool.
Pena was one of the few Foxtrot soldiers who spent the four days without any loved ones in town. He mostly read in his room and watched TV, he said, but ventured alone for a few outings. One was a taxi ride to a nearby mountaintop that features a statue of Jesus Christ.
Looking at his singing comrades, Pena, an Iraq veteran, smiled.
"It's a release of stress," he said.
The other soldiers jumped into the pool with their clothes on. Pena did not move to join them as the soldiers splashed each other.
Moments later, the soldiers got out of the pool and approached Pena -- and picked him up and threw him in, too.
Back to camp
A desert wind had pushed the temperature down to 50 degrees. It was almost 11 p.m., the deadline for Foxtrot to report to their tents at Camp Westbrook, 35 miles from El Paso in the New Mexico wilderness.
The soldiers lined up, some still in shorts and T-shirts.
First Sergeant Card stepped forward.
"You guys had a good time -- well deserved," he said. "It's time to get back to the military bearing. It's time to get back to business."
Foxtrot left on a military charter flight for the Persian Gulf on Wednesday evening. They're not scheduled to return for 10 months.
New Commander in Iraq Is Jersey Native
September 7, 2008
Column:
FOR A MOMENT, try to ignore Governor Corzine or U.S. attorney Chris Christie -- or any of the other Jersey politicians vying for attention in this election season. Consider this seemingly unlikely possibility:
The most influential New Jersey voice right now in the world may just be a guy name Ray.
Army Lt. General Raymond Odierno, who grew up in Rockaway and graduated from Morris Hills High School in the Seventies before going to West Point, is leaving again for Iraq - this time as the top U.S. commander there. His job is not only to win the war, but to advise the White House and Congress how quickly to bring U.S. forces home.
"It's about continuity," said Odierno, who is set to arrive in Iraq next week. "But we're not finished yet."
In a wide ranging telephone interview, Odierno talked about his Jersey roots, his hopes for Iraq and what may be a cutting-edge mission of sorts for New Jersey National Guard units heading there.
"I'm still a Jersey guy," said Odierno. "I'm very proud of that."
But when it comes to Iraq, Odierno also spoke of a prime worry - whether the dramatic reduction in violence and U.S. casualties in Iraq in the past year can continue.
"I don't want to sound too rosy," Odierno said. "There's still danger."
But he added: "We're on a good glide path."
Familiar with the turf
Odierno knows Iraq well. He has spent 32 months in the combat-ravaged nation since 2003. From 2006 to 2007, he ran day-to-day military operations in the so called "surge," a strategy of aggressively attacking Iraqi insurgents while also providing better protection in violent neighborhoods. Today, the strategy is largely viewed as a success.
But when he returns, the 53-year-old career Army officer carries an even heavier burden. He is replacing General David Petraeus as top commander of all U.S. and international military forces there, including a soon-to-arrive contingent of 2,800 New Jersey National Guard soldiers.
In his new role, bolstered by a promotion to 4-star general when he arrives in Iraq, Odierno will automatically become one of the prime advisers to the next U.S. president, no matter who wins.
"What we don't want is to move backwards," Odierno said, adding that he felt U.S. forces would be decreased from the current level of about 145,000 soldiers.
"I do see that happening," Odierno said of U.S. units being sent home.
But a key factor, he said, is how well the Iraqi army takes over many duties now performed by American soldiers. Indeed, one of the most sensitive experiments in this transition will involve the New Jersey National Guard, Odierno said.
Early next year, Odierno said, he would begin to transfer Iraqi army units to the mission of guarding prison camps - already the prime assignment for New Jersey's 50th Infantry Brigade Combat Team, which began deploying to Iraq last week from a training base in the New Mexico desert.
The goal, Odierno explained, would be to have Iraqi soldiers working side by side with the Garden State citizen soldiers - with the New Jersey units eventually stepping back and letting the Iraqis take over.
"That's one of the key pieces," Odierno said of Iraq's army assuming command of a string of detention camps, which hold tens of thousands of prisoners.
Odierno cautioned that the transition would probably not allow New Jersey Guard units to return home before their deployment ends next June. "We'll need them through June for sure," he said. "But you'll see they have contributed."
New Jersey Guard commanders say they have not yet been told specifically when Iraqi soldiers might join them as prison guards. But they welcome the challenge proposed by Odierno.
"It's going to be a historic time over there," said a New Jersey Guard spokesman, Major Jon Powers. "It's been said that our time over there could be the beginning of the end, where Iraq takes over its own security. If New Jersey can help with that, great."
Capt. James Egan of Glen Rock, whose Teaneck-based Foxtrot Company has been assigned to prison camp near the southern Iraqi city of Basra, said he was told during the pre-deployment training to be prepared to work with Iraqi soldiers. But he was not told when that would take place.
Odierno said the transition may occur in late winter or early spring 2009. But that depends on whether the level of violence continues to recede in Iraq. Last month, 23 U.S. soldiers were killed in Iraq, compared with 84 in August 2007.
"It doesn't surprise me that the Iraqis will be taking on more of our duties," Egan said. "We're already thinking along those lines."
Foxtrot's first sergeant, Scott Card of West Milford, echoed Egan's enthusiasm, adding that he hoped his unit could play a role in teaching Iraqi soldiers how to guard prisoners.
"That would keep other National Guard units from having to go to Iraq in the future," he said.
In 2003, Odierno led the Army's 4th Infantry Division into Iraq. A year later, his soldiers helped capture Iraqi President Saddam Hussein.
That moment of triumph was short-lived, however. Months later, Odierno's son, Anthony, who followed his father to West Point and then to Iraq as a lieutenant with the First Cavalry Division, lost his left arm when a rocket punched through the door of his Humvee.
The incident gives General Odierno a uniquely personal perspective on war - and it's aftermath, especially the need for follow-up care for wounded soldiers.
Anthony Odierno, 29, who left the Army as a captain, is now studying for an MBA at New York University. This summer, he interned in the business office of the New York Yankees.
"He's doing real well now," Odierno said of his son. "I know how hard he has worked to come back, and it's very gratifying."
Looking ahead to returning to Iraq, Odierno declined to offer a timetable for troop withdrawals, though he said "there is a chance" for significant reductions in U.S. forces over the next three years if violence continues to subside.
"Back in 2006, Iraq was a failed state," Odierno said. "I now tell everyone it's a fragile state. We want to get them to a stable state."
Teaching Right and Wrong in No Man's Land
September 28, 2008
Column:
IT WAS basic cop talk - one Jersey police officer lecturing rookie officers on why they should not take bribes.
But this classroom was in Afghanistan, and the rookies were Afghan cops.
Needless to say, the advice on bribes did not go over well.
Police Officer Jonathan Suydam smiled and shook his head as he told the story the other day. Suydam, a Manalapan cop for the past 19 years, also happens to be a staff sergeant in the New Jersey National Guard. For the past 10 months, he volunteered with 15 other New Jersey National Guard soldiers to serve as police instructors in Afghanistan.
"It's like the Wild West," said Suydam.
That may be an understatement. While much of America focused on turmoil in Iraq the last few years, the conflict in Afghanistan sometimes seemed like a forgotten piece of history. Indeed, while 2,800 New Jersey National Guard soldiers departed this month for Iraq amid much fanfare, the return of the 16 National Guard volunteers from Afghanistan only a few weeks later seemed almost a quiet epilogue.
"This is the unseen war," said Major Ronald Deloatch, who took a leave from teaching at Chatham High School to work with Afghan cops. "The hardest thing to deal with when I came home is no one knows there is a war going on in Afghanistan. It's not affecting most people back home. A lot of people feel they are not connected."
Nonetheless, as those volunteers gathered at Fort Dix one day last week to begin their process of transferring from the military back to civilian life, many were not shy about the dangers they faced in Afghanistan and what America faces there in the coming years. Two of the 16 were wounded in what many said was an almost-daily diet of random bomb explosions, sniper attacks and roadside ambushes.
"You can take any piece of land in Afghanistan. The problem is holding it," said Lt. Col. John Langston of Morristown, a former restaurant manager who now serves full-time in the National Guard.
"There is no score card," added Major Deloatch.
As if that was not bad enough, in Afghanistan, there seems to be no universal set of laws that cops or ordinary people followed. The 16 New Jersey volunteers were dispatched to various bases across Afghanistan. But each returned with the same observation: Corruption is alive and well in Afghanistan.
This discovery had deeply personal implications for one of the Jersey volunteers, Major John James, the son of former Newark Mayor Sharpe James, who was sent to jail on corruption charges only days before his son returned from Afghanistan.
Major James, who was wounded in a bomb attack, believes his father is innocent - an understandable sentiment by a loyal son. But he readily concedes that watching Afghan officials take bribes so openly seemed surreal as he followed his father's trial back in Newark's federal court last summer.
A sense of ethics
Major James said he tried to impart some sense of ethical standards to the Afghan police officers he was training. But his words fell flat. The problem, said Major James, was that far too many of Afghanistan's high-ranking officials were taking bribes. When ordinary cops saw this, they wanted a piece of the financial action, too - echoing similar sentiments by Newark's U.S. Attorney Christopher Christie, whose investigation sent James' father to jail.
"What's their incentive to be legit if they know a lot of their leaders are corrupt?" Major James said.
Master Sergeant Jon Welgos, a retired Edison police lieutenant who rides with an East Rutherford motorcycle club in his free time, said he never felt he could trust any of the Afghan police officers he supervised.
"You cannot buy an Afghan for any price," Welgos said. "But they're all for rent."
This may explain why Sergeant Suydam felt he was not getting through when he lectured Afghan rookie cops about bribe-taking.
Don't take bribes, Suydam remembers telling the classroom as an interpreter translated his words.
"If you take money from a drug runner, you just set police work back 200 years," Suydam said.
As he finished that sentence, Suydam scanned the classroom, hoping for some sense that he was connecting. But the Afghans just smiled back - and Suydam learned a hard lesson. Bribe-taking may be a crime in New Jersey, but in Afghanistan it's a way of living, especially for cops who were often targeted by Islamic insurgents known as the Taliban.
"A lot of these guys were cops during the day and Taliban at night," he said.
Like many New Jersey Guard soldiers, Suydam looked for small victories.
"If I got through to one or two Afghan cops, I did my job," he said.
Part Iii: The Combat Zone
Introduction:
Follow Our Reports on Jersey's Men, Women in Iraq
December 1, 2008
They are our neighbors -- grandparents, truck drivers, electricians, accountants, teachers, police officers -- and now they're in Iraq.
For the past year, a team of Record reporters, photographers and editors has chronicled the training and deployment of the citizen-soldiers of the New Jersey National Guard.
The reporting began in the spring as the soldiers loaded into buses and military vehicles at armories throughout the state and headed to Fort Indiantown Gap in Pennsylvania for three weeks of training. The summer saw them shipped to a remote camp in the New Mexico desert -- where The Record spent two weeks with them -- for more intensive preparation.
In early September, the soldiers were sent to Iraq. It was the largest overseas deployment of the state's National Guard since World War II.
Today, two members of The Record team -- reporter Mike Kelly and photographer Tyson Trish -- are scheduled to leave for Iraq to continue the newspaper's "Jersey at War" series.
Look for their daily reports on HYPERLINK "http://northjersey.com" \t "_blank" northjersey.com and for their stories and photographs on the Web and in the pages of The Record.
New Battle Lines
December 7, 2008
Soldiers Fight to Keep Baghdad Running
BAGHDAD, Iraq -- Christopher Schrieks got a promotion of sorts when he left Lodi earlier this year and journeyed to this war-ravaged city as a soldier in the New Jersey National Guard.
Schrieks, a captain in the detective bureau of the Lodi Police Department, suddenly found himself three months ago with the new job of the security chief in Baghdad's Green Zone, the 6-square-mile patch that is home to the U.S. military and diplomatic corps as well as numerous international representatives and several thousand Iraqi citizens.
In plain language, Schrieks is now a police chief.
But he's not the only New Jerseyan with a key job here.
When 2,800 soldiers from the state's National Guard units deployed to Iraq in September, Pentagon military planners assigned a select group to run Baghdad's governmental services in the Green Zone, formally known as the International Zone.
"The best analogy is that we're a small city government," said Maj. Jon Powers, a spokesman for the Guard in Baghdad and a detective for the New Jersey Attorney General's Office back home.
If a pothole needs fixing amid the rubble of a Baghdad boulevard, someone from New Jersey gets the call. The same is true with fixing electrical outages, unclogging muddy sewers, signing construction contracts, overseeing payroll budgeting -- even retraining Baghdad's firefighters and chasing down undocumented workers.
While mundane perhaps and hardly akin to the tough combat of a hot war zone, the role for the state's National Guard could not be more critical, nor come at a more sensitive time.
With the signing of a recent agreement to downsize the U.S. military presence in the coming years, American authorities have speeded up the transfer of civil power back to the fledgling Iraqi government. For the New Jersey National Guard, this means serving on a new kind of front line.
Now, not only do New Jersey's citizen soldiers have to run a piece of Baghdad's government, but they have to teach Iraqis how to take over. The task requires that they carry a gun -- and act like a diplomat.
Delicate balance
"This is a very important, strategic time to be here as we turn over operations of the country to Iraq," said Col. Steven Ferrari, the overall commander of the state's National Guard in Iraq. "It's a delicate line of security and sovereignty. Everything we do, we have to be very careful."
Adds Maj. John Tumino of Emerson, an FBI counterintelligence agent back in America and the coordinator of government ID badges in the Green Zone: "We're nation building."
"It's not revolutionary," said Tumino. "It's evolutionary."
And sometimes, this evolution can have some surprising results.
Recently, the New Jersey National Guard upgraded street lights for a small corner of Baghdad that was used as a staging area for combat patrol teams. What seemed like an ordinary task turned into a point of national pride for Iraqis.
The neighborhood also is home to Iraq's Unknown Soldier Memorial, so the upgrade meant Iraqis could turn on the lights at the memorial - with the help of a donation from a wealthy Iraqi.
"It was a happy accident," said Sgt. Bill Addison of Brick.
But the serendipity comes with a sobering dose of wartime reality. The Iraqi benefactor did not want his name publicized. To work with Americans -- even on electrical upgrades -- could place Iraqi citizens in danger from insurgents who, while diminished in their lethal capabilities, are still a force, especially for those living beyond the relative safety of the Green Zone, in Baghdad and beyond.
Stories of success are greeted with a near-universal cheer by the soldiers. But even as they plan to rebuild Iraq, the soldiers are also on guard against those who want to destroy it -- an enemy that wears no uniform and respects no front line.
Every soldier carries a gun at all times. Every office is near a concrete "duck and cover" bunker in case of a rocket attack. Every soldier sleeps with a helmet and body armor within easy reach.
Unseen dangers
Since arriving in Iraq in September, no New Jersey soldier has fired a gun at the enemy, said Ferrari, a full-time Guard officer who lives in Berlin in South Jersey. But that is perhaps a false standard to measure safety or relative peace.
While Ferrari's primary job is to keep an eye on his 2,800 soldiers from New Jersey's 50th Infantry Brigade Combat Team, whose 22 companies are scattered across Baghdad and near the southern Iraq city of Basra, he also oversees other U.S. military units in the Green Zone.
In recent months, two Army soldiers died -- one in a truck accident, the other in a rocket attack.
"It's a slap of reality," Ferrari said as he sat in his office in the former Iraq Republican Guard Palace. "You greet every day and hope nothing will happen. But you have to remember this is a very dangerous place."
Few National Guard soldiers are more aware of that than Lt. Col. Christopher Schrieks.
On an afternoon last week, Schrieks steered an armored SUV down a Baghdad boulevard. Around his neck, an ID badge dangled from a strap that said, "Lodi Police."
In some ways, Schrieks, 42, was using the same kinds of skills he developed patrolling the streets of Lodi. Only these streets of Baghdad have up to three security checkpoints every half-mile and row after row of "blast walls" -- 15-foot-high concrete barriers that essentially turn every road into a corridor.
Schrieks slowed as he approached a checkpoint, manned by Peruvian security guards hired by a contractor. He looked left, then right. Just as he might as a cop back in Lodi, he was looking for anything suspicious -- a man trying to hide or perhaps a box or backpack left untended.
"There are still bad guys around," he said.
Across town, Capt. Joseph DeSantis from Glassboro works amid the daily reminders of just how evil Iraq was under the dictatorial boot of Saddam Hussein.
DeSantis' assignment is to coordinate the rebuilding of a portion of the notorious Baath Party Headquarters, the seat of power under Saddam. And for that job, DeSantis may be one of the most skilled soldiers in the National Guard.
Back home in New Jersey, he oversees insurance contracts for construction projects. Even so, in New Jersey he never faced a task even remotely similar to his job in Baghdad.
In March of 2003, the Baath headquarters was rocked by two massive, U.S. laser-guided bombs in the "shock and awe" bombardment that signaled the start of the Iraq war. Indeed, the bombs' guidance systems were so precise that the holes where they punched through the building's roof are only 6 feet apart.
Standing on that roof a few days ago, DeSantis scanned the various corners of Baghdad. He pointed out the "Love Palace" of one of Saddam's sons. It was destroyed by American bombs. He pointed to "Prosperity Palace" - also hit by bombs.
He pointed to a street - still pockmarked with bomb craters. He pointed to row after row of grey blast walls that seemed to stretch for miles.
"Here, you can see what we're going through," DeSantis said.
Downstairs, teams of Iraqi workers hired by DeSantis slapped yellow paint on walls, installed door locks and adjusted ceiling lights. But these jobs could only be completed in a handful of floors in the Baath headquarters - and only in two wings.
The center of the building was blasted beyond repair by the bombs. So DeSantis will leave knowing that he could do only so much - not a complete job, but something in between.
That's enough for his Iraqi assistant, Rasha Mahmood.
"I want my country to be a good country," she said. "We have a good heart. I want my people to feel good. I want us to return to a normal life.
But for now, that good life is still far away. And no amount of paint and new lighting can erase the infamy of the Baath Party headquarters.
Resignation and hope
After leaving the roof, DeSantis walks down a series of stairs - to the building's basement and the steel-doored rooms that are believed to have been jail cells for Saddam's political prisoners.
"This is where we think they tortured people," he said glumly.
To work amid such sordid history is difficult, DeSantis says. And for his part, he tries to find solace and pride now in small victories.
The other day, he took time to explain to Iraqi electricians the need to adhere to strict safety codes.
"Their idea of an electric code is to put a plug in the wall and see if it works." DeSantis said. "They have no idea that you can burn down the building if you don't wire it correctly."
It's the kind of attention to detail that DeSantis learned back in New Jersey as an insurance adjustor. Several blocks away, Maj. David Melendez tries to teach the same concept to a different Iraqi audience - firefighters.
Melendez, a New York City firefighter who joined the Jersey Guard because he liked the unit's camaraderie, has become an ad-hoc fire chief and training director for Baghdad's fire department. And like DeSantis, Melendez found the Iraqis he was working with enthusiastic but lacking basic standards.
"They're good firefighters," Melendez said. "But we're teaching them basic rules."
Many National Guard soldiers speak of a mix of realism, hopefulness and resignation. Life is punctuated with the occasional thud of a distant bomb, and the inviolate rule is that you never go anywhere without the company of a "battle buddy."
They hope to do something significant that will draw accolades to their units. Yet, they also know there is only so much they can do in a place so badly scarred by war.
"Sometimes it's a bit surreal to be here," said Capt. Christopher Ortiz, a New Jersey state trooper who is overseeing the refurbishing of Saddam's "Prosperity Palace."
To walk through the palace today, you hardly feel a sense of prosperity. Huge cracks run down the walls. Dust and dirt sit in corners. Walkways are covered with rocks.
"This was one of Saddam's pleasure palaces," said Ortiz, who lives in Hoboken. "But there is no room that is unscathed."
Nevertheless, Ortiz's soldiers are making the best of their surroundings. For a communication's center, they found the best space turned out to be a large room with high marble walls - one of Saddam's hot tubs.
Today, a communications desk, covered with radios sits in the middle of a waterless tub where the late dictator is said to have relaxed.
The other day, Ortiz walked into the room, looked at the marble tub and the desk - and smiled.
"Sometimes this is surreal," he said.
***
Fast facts on the Iraq war
* Hostilities began on March 20, 2003, with limited airstrikes; the famed "shock and awe" aerial bombardment that reduces much of the Iraqi government infrastructure to rubble takes place the next day.
* Number of soldiers currently involved: 146,000 from U.S.; total from all nations is just over 150,000.
* Guard units deployed this year: New Jersey, Hawaii, Illinois, Pennsylvania and Texas.
Casualties (as of Friday):
U.S. killed: 4,209 (all causes). Roughly 10 percent arewith National Guard units, according to The Associated Press.
U.S. wounded: 30,852 (includes those who returned to duty).
Iraqi casualties: Estimates vary widely from 150,000 dead to over a million.
Friendship, Caring and Gatorade
December 8, 2008
How an Airman Won Over a Baghdad Family
BAGHDAD, Iraq - Chris Jodice of Weehawken stopped his SUV on the muddy street and looked into the dark rubble of a home.
He got out, opened the trunk, and searched for something to give away.
"I have a few bottles of Gatorade," said Jodice, an Air Force policeman under the command of the New Jersey National Guard here in Baghdad's Green Zone.
The Green Zone is a relatively safe bubble in Baghdad, but it still has problems. Nearly six years after the beginning of the Iraq war, large pockets are still bombed out.
Like many of his comrades, Jodice wants to help make things better, even in small ways. So, the 22-year-old senior airman often finds himself steering his military police SUV down this darkened lane near the Tigris River.
"I like to check on this family," he said.
Jodice peered silently into the rubble. A boy's face appeared. Then a girl's.
"Hey, buddy," Jodice yelled.
The boy and girl broke into wide smiles and stepped past a broken stove, a discarded crib and a broken toilet and walked through a series of puddles to reach Jodice. Then another boy appeared. Then another girl -- and more children.
Two families live in the ruins of this house, which was hit by an errant bomb. The mother of five of the children opened a corrugated steel door, held on hinges with strands of clothes line.
"My name is Sadia," she said in broken English.
She pointed to the collapsed concrete roof, lying flat like a broken bird's wing atop the bedrooms of the once-spacious home.
"American bombs," she said.
"No one was killed," she added.
It could have been a wayward American bomb -- or, possibly, an Iraqi antiaircraft shell that fell back to earth on Sadia's street. No one knows for sure.
But to Chris Jodice and others who work with the New Jersey National Guard, it doesn't matter.
"We love this family," said Areeg Farug, one of the Guard's Iraqi translators. "We try to visit as often as we can. They have nowhere else to go."
Jodice was scheduled to depart Iraq on Sunday. His tour will be over.
"I just wanted to visit," he said, adding he may not have another chance before he flies home. "These kids are wonderful. I wanted to tell them I wouldn't see them again."
He bent over and hugged a boy and a girl.
"I wish I had more Gatorade to give them," he said.
N.J. Native Guides Shift of Power in Iraq
December 11, 2008
Prison Closing Is Sign of Progress
CAMP VICTORY, Iraq -- The New Jersey National Guard is getting a new, politically sensitive assignment: to oversee the closure of one of Iraq's largest prison camps and help free thousands of Iraqi prisoners.
In an interview with The Record, Gen. Raymond Odierno, the top U.S. military commander in Iraq and a New Jersey native, predicted that the Camp Bucca detention center, where about 1,000 Garden State citizen-solders supervise more than 13,000 Iraqi detainees, will be shut down next year.
"My guess is that Camp Bucca will be closed sometime in the middle of 2009," said Odierno, who grew up in Rockaway and played football at Morris Hills High School.
The four-star general, who took over the Iraq multinational military command in September, said he has tentatively set a June 2009 deadline for shutting down the sprawling Camp Bucca.
The camp, which sits near the Kuwait border outside the city of Basra, is the largest detention center in this war-torn nation. Several North Jersey National Guard units -- including Teaneck's Foxtrot Company -- have been based there since September.
Odierno said New Jersey Guard soldiers and other units will begin releasing about 50 Iraqi detainees each day from the camp -- or about 1,500 a month -- for the next six months. In other cases, the U.S. troops will turn detainees over to Iraqi police for possible prosecution.
Odierno said about one-third of the detainees who are believed to be especially dangerous will be held at a prison camp somewhere -- just not necessarily by the U.S.
"We think there is somewhere around 5,000 or so detainees that will continue to be detained by the government of Iraq because of the types of crimes," he said.
Odierno's June deadline for closing Camp Bucca is significant, since it coincides with scheduled departure for all New Jersey National Guard soldiers from Iraq.
Four months in Iraq
The 2,800 soldiers of New Jersey's 50th Infantry Brigade Combat Team arrived in Iraq four months ago in the largest deployment of Garden State Guard units since World War II. The brigade quickly found itself involved in a number of key missions that carry political and military significance.
One unit is supervising the governance of the "Green Zone," the 6-square-mile patch of Baghdad that is home to the U.S. Embassy, Iraq's main government offices and many other foreign diplomatic missions. By Dec. 31, New Jersey's brigade leaders will hand over the keys to the Green Zone to Iraqi authorities.
Odierno, 54, presides over the transition of power from the gleaming 455,000-square-foot Al-Faw Palace, a hulking marble edifice built on a man-made lake by Saddam Hussein in memory of his war with Iran during the 1980s.
The palace -- and its surrounding buildings -- are now the centerpiece of the spacious, dusty Camp Victory. The base is home to hundreds of military planners, including the 6-foot-5, 245-pound Odierno, a former West Point football player.
Interviewed while sitting on a black leather couch as an early-morning sun swept through floor-to-ceiling windows of his corner palace office, Odierno discussed a wide range of subjects, including the health of his son, Anthony, an Army lieutenant who lost an arm while serving in Iraq.
"He's doing real well," Odierno said of Anthony, who was promoted to captain, then left the Army to study for a master's degree in business at New York University. "He's getting married in January."
'Tony Soprano'
On another personal subject, Odierno dismissed published reports about soldiers jokingly referring to him as the military's version of Tony Soprano, the fictional gangster on the HBO television series.
"I'm from New Jersey," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I have an Italian name. What can I say?"
Turning to Iraq, Odierno said he was confident that the nation is far more peaceful than it was last year. But he stopped far short of claiming peace was at hand.
"Iraq is still fragile," he said. "We need to get it more stable."
While insurgent attacks have dropped dramatically -- more than 90 percent in some areas, the U.S. military says -- there is still a sense that fighting could break out at any moment.
Likewise, Odierno is trying to set a tone of cooperation with Iraqi officials in not only sharing power, but in turning over major governing decisions. Nevertheless, he stressed that the U.S. would remain very much involved.
"Our mission is not changing," he said. "The operating environment is changing."
That description is especially applicable, he said, to Camp Bucca and the tenuous question of what to do with the thousands of prisoners, many of whom have never been charged with crimes.
As for troop levels, Odierno indicated that many American units would be leaving -- but he steered clear of disclosing an exact number. The key question, he said, was whether fighting would continue to decline.
"Some will leave. Some will stay. Some will be replaced," Odierno said. "When the mission is done, some will go home. But again, that will be based on timing, which we're not clear on yet."
Odierno said U.S. units are still recovering caches of weapons and hunting down teams of insurgents. But he was quick to point out that the atmosphere in Iraq is vastly different.
He credits this to an increase in U.S. troop levels -- a strategy known as "the surge" -- but also to a change in tactics.
"The first thing you need to do is make the population feel secure," he said. "Once they feel more secure, they will help you with counterinsurgency."
Odierno said a key to the early success of Iraqi insurgents was their ability to gain the "passive support" of ordinary people.
"When you protect the population, you eliminate the ability of the insurgents to threaten, extort, intimidate," he said. "Once that happens, people feel more secure. They start providing more information. It eliminates this passive support and safe haven for insurgents."
Baghdad transformed
The process, Odierno acknowledged, is not unlike what law enforcement employs when they are trying to encourage people to come forward and testify against organized crime figures.
"I feel that we have significantly increased the population's security in most of Iraq -- I would say about 80 percent of Iraq," he said. "There is still about 20 percent where we have some insurgents. And most of it is in northern Iraq."
Baghdad, he added, has become transformed.
"I look at Baghdad as a different place than it was two years ago," Odierno said. "Traffic, markets, normal life is ongoing. You have the arts coming back. Soccer is becoming huge. Normality is starting to come back. And that's the best sign that they feel much more comfortable."
But he cautioned that Iraq is still dangerous.
"People still sneak through with suicide bombs," he said. "That will continue to happen because we have groups here that do that. But their ability to attack has been decreased significantly. Nonetheless, they are still capable of conducting high-profile attacks."
***
Gen. Raymond Odierno
Born: Sept. 8, 1954
Hometown: Rockaway
Schooling: Graduated with B.S. in engineering from the U.S. Military Academy at West Point in 1976, and master's degrees in nuclear effects engineering and national security and strategy from North Carolina State University and the Naval War College, respectively.
Career highlights: Assumed command of the Multi-National Force-Iraq on Sept. 16, 2008; commanded 4th Infantry Division, which captured Saddam Hussein in 2003, from 2001 to 2004; operational architect of troop surge; became assistant to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in Washington in November 2004, where he was the primary military adviser to Secretaries of State Colin Powell and Condoleezza Rice.
Source: U.S. Army
Restoring 'Pleasure Palace'
December 15, 2008
Grim Duty Where Saddam's Depraved Sons Ran Amok
BAGHDAD, Iraq -- The lion statue in the driveway tells you much about the silent house overlooking the sleepy Tigris River where broken window glass litters the patio and a bullet-riddled mural of a half-naked woman keeps watch from the living room.
The lion is missing a leg.
A guy from New Jersey has been assigned to try to fix this place -- or at least clean it up a little.
Welcome to the "Pleasure Palace" of Uday and Qusay Hussein, the notorious deceased sons of Saddam Hussein. Welcome, also, to one of the most difficult jobs for the New Jersey National Guard.
War is not just about destruction. It should also be about transformation -- even resurrection. But five years after U.S. tanks rumbled into Baghdad and brought down Saddam Hussein's government, the military is still trying to figure out what to do with the dozens of palaces for Hussein and his family.
Lt. Col. Robert Jarvis, an IT manager for Public Service Electric and Gas Co. in his civilian life, drew one of the most politically sensitive of the palace fix-ups. As "installations director" in Baghdad, Jarvis will try to clean up and possibly refurbish the sex, drug and murder palace of the Hussein sons.
The goal, he says, is to turn over the property in decent shape to Iraqi authorities, who may then use the property to attract investors, possibly for a vacation resort.
Jarvis won't be around for that transformation -- if it ever happens. For now, his task is far more mundane. He has to clean up the rubble.
For Jarvis -- a 48-year-old grandfather who lives in Hainesport in South Jersey but who has spent most of the last year in Newark redesigning a PSE&G computer system -- the task is steeped in irony, not to mention his own personal disgust.
With its river view and quiet setting, the Hussein sons' palace is clearly spectacular, though there is still the not-so-small problem of a 10-foot-wide hole in the roof from a U.S. bomb.
At the same time, the place is a reputed killing zone. To walk through it is to wonder what went on -- and why.
"I just can't imagine how somebody would do the things that were reported here," Jarvis says, stepping over a pile of broken bricks and glass that were once a bedroom.
About 2,800 citizen soldiers from New Jersey arrived in Iraq three months ago, the largest overseas Guard deployment since World War II. Most soldiers are assigned to guard Iraqi prisoners, which the military labels "detainees."
A handful, like Jarvis here in Baghdad, have been asked to help piece together a city whose streets and buildings still bear the scars of heavy bombs dropped by U.S. jets more than five years ago.
It's one thing to remodel an ordinary government building, though. It's something else to deal with what now goes by the name of "Uday and Qusay's Pleasure Palace."
Stories of mayhem at the palace have become the stuff of legend. And even though Uday, 38, and Qusay, 37, were killed by U.S. troops in a gunbattle elsewhere soon after the invasion, the legend lives on.
When U.S. troops stormed the palace in April 2003, they reportedly discovered $1 million worth of alcohol, including rare and expensive bottles of French wines. They also found six bags of heroin, not to mention hundreds of photos of naked women, bundles of Internet printouts of information on prostitutes, boxes of Cuban cigars and numerous copies of Uday Hussein's reputed doctoral dissertation, "The World After the Cold War."
Reports at the time described U.S. intelligence analysts shaking their heads in disbelief as they tried to figure out the mentality of Saddam's sons.
Were the brothers crazy? Hopelessly depraved? Or were they just spoiled kids who grew up and were allowed to do whatever they wanted -- even when it came to murder?
Eyewitnesses told U.S. authorities that the brothers used the 10,000-square-foot mansion -- actually three connected villas -- as a place for orgies and torture.
According to those reports, if the brothers spotted an attractive woman -- even a bride at her wedding -- they felt free to abduct and rape her. Some were later killed. Aides who displeased them were tortured. Uday tortured Iraqi national athletes he thought were underperforming.
Robert Jarvis is acutely aware of all these stories, and more.
"We Americans struggle with that," he says. "Throughout our lives we have that sense of right and wrong. Clearly these guys grew up without any sense of right or wrong, without any concern for law and order. They did whatever they wanted to do, whenever they wanted to, to whomever they wanted to."
Jarvis pauses at the thought. His eyes scan the palace back yard. It is late afternoon. A golden sun settles into the desert haze and the Tigris seems like a strip of reflective foil in the soft sunlight.
Jarvis walks to the edge of a raised patio deck and looks down -- to the yard where tigers were said to roam. A stone gazebo, its pillars chipped and slashed by bomb shrapnel, leans slightly to one side. A few feet away, a palm tree stands -- with its head sheared off. Weeds peek from the patio stonework. Birds fly in and out of what were once sunrooms.
"It really is quite a beautiful spot," he says, then adds: "If not for the bomb damage."
That sense of "if not for the bomb damage" seems to hover over much of Baghdad's landscape.
Across the city, U.S. bombs hit many of the monuments or buildings where the Hussein government tortured its enemies. And yet, many of those buildings still harbor an inherent beauty.
"I grew up reading 'Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves,' " says Sgt. Robert Stephenson, 52, who moved from Jersey City to Lawrenceville just before deploying to Iraq. "You come over here and have to think that we're part of this story now."
Jarvis turns from the back yard and heads to the palace front door and down the front ramp. He turns to the lion with the missing leg and frowns.
He wants to repair it. But he knows that the broken paw reveals another pathetic characteristic of this palace. Underneath the elaborate façade of the lion is a cheaply constructed shell.
The rest of the palace is built the same way -- fancy façades covering cheap brickwork. In some cases, where workers ran out of bricks, they filled spaces with paper and wood.
"They slap up some steel and concrete and hang the fancy stonework on the front and make it appear like it's a big solid-stone structure," Jarvis says. "Really it's not."
He turns and looks at the palace façade again and the columns that seem ready to fall atop the lion with the missing paw.
"I'm constantly looking at this," he says. "It really fits my image of a Hollywood back lot."
***
The House of Saddam
Sajida Talfah: Saddam Hussein and his first wife were wed in 1963 as the result of an arranged marriage. She is the mother of Saddam's five children.
Uday Hussein: Saddam's eldest son, born in 1964. Known for erratic behavior, lavish lifestyle and torture he inflicted on enemies, he was killed by U.S. forces in July 2003.
Qusay Hussein: Saddam's second son, born in 1966. More stable than Uday, he was believed to be Saddam's chosen successor. Married with three children, the eldest a son who died with him and Uday.
Raghad Hussein (1968), Rana Hussein (1971), Hala Hussein (1972): Saddam's three daughters; all fled to Jordan after the war.
Samira Shahbandar: Saddam married a second wife in 1993; she fled to Beirut, Lebanon.
Delicate Diplomacy
December 21, 2008
Foxtrot Company Trying to Win Hearts, Minds of Iraqi Detainees
CAMP BUCCA, Iraq -- On a patch of sand, blown hard and flat by eternal desert winds, a man in a yellow prison uniform stares through a chain-link and barbed-wire fence at a man from New Jersey in gray-green camouflage.
"What's up?" asks Capt. James Egan of Glen Rock, the commander of Foxtrot Company, a National Guard unit normally based at the Teaneck Armory and now deployed to this war zone.
The man in yellow -- an Iraqi who grew up in Baghdad -- walks to a hole in the fence and extends his hand.
"We appreciate all you do for us," he says in broken English.
Egan smiles, then shakes the man's hand.
This is how the Iraq war is now being waged by Foxtrot Company, which journeyed almost 6,300 miles to Iraq four months ago as part of the largest New Jersey National Guard overseas deployment since World War II.
In this desolate corner of southern Iraq, some 30 miles south of Basra and near the legendary location of the Garden of Eden, war is not a matter of bullets or bombs, bellicose statements or flag-waving.
Here war is a subtle affair, of words and handshakes, all framed by barbed wire.
The battlefield is a prison camp about half the size of New York's Central Park. The largest military detention center in the world, Camp Bucca was named after Ronald Bucca, an FDNY marshal killed in the collapse of the South Tower of the World Trade Center on Sept. 11, 2001.
Victory -- if it can be called that -- is measured by smiles, promises of peace and the trust soldiers like Egan are attempting to forge with the Iraqi men in yellow.
Foxtrot's 120 soldiers are part of the 1,000-member New Jersey National Guard contingent assigned to Camp Bucca. They, along with units from other states, have the task of guarding almost 13,000 Iraqi prisoners.
This camp represents one of the thorniest obstacles in the U.S. plan to withdraw forces and turn over control of Iraq to the nation's fledgling government.
Gen. Raymond Odierno, the Morris County native who commands all U.S. and multinational troops in Iraq, told The Record earlier this month that he expects to close Camp Bucca by mid-2009 -- which means Foxtrot and other New Jersey Guard units could be the last assigned here.
But what to do about the prisoners?
All were picked up off streets of Baghdad, Mosul, Fallujah, and other Iraqi hot spots. Some are still considered dangerous and likely to fight U.S. troops if set free. Indeed, Odierno said, about 5,000 of the 13,000 should never be turned loose. About 90 have already been sentenced to death by Iraqi courts.
But the majority are a mystery when it comes to assessing their future intentions, U.S. officials say.
Some were in the wrong place at the wrong time and wrongfully arrested amid the fog of battle.
"Are some innocent?" asks Lt. Col. Kevin Vereen, the deputy commander of Camp Bucca's military police brigade. "Without question."
But most fall into a limbo-like category. They may have resisted the U.S. invasion of their nation and may have even helped set off roadside bombs or participated in gun battles. But now, many have pledged to reform and rehabilitate their lives.
Foxtrot Company guards two Camp Bucca compounds holding roughly 1,000 men each. All the men in Foxtrot's compounds are considered moderates and capable of rehabilitation.
And it is here, U.S. authorities say, that a delicate diplomatic dance takes place, an attempt to win hearts and minds while also weeding out the bad guys.
Prisoners are offered medical and dental care as well as job training, language classes and even an on-site Islamic religious retreat. In return for good behavior, prisoners are allowed to use cellphones to talk to their families.
"It's a national-security imperative that we do this job well," said Col. Clyde Burton, a Marine reservist who coordinates supplies for Camp Bucca that arrive each day in 19 tractor-trailers.
"We can't win the war from Bucca," he said. "But we could lose it."
All quiet on this front
There are almost no loud sounds at Bucca.
Electrical generators hum. Guards' boots clang on steel steps of guard towers. Imams call Muslim prisoners to prayer several times a day. A truck backs up to a beep-beep-beep warning sound. Black Hawk helicopters swoop overhead a few times each day.
For a place that is home to nearly 13,000 prisoners, it is remarkably quiet.
Still, there's tension here, in the uncertainly of what these men intend to do once they are free, and after U.S. troops leave Iraq.
"This is like being a corrections officer," said Spec. Richard Machado of Dumont.
Spec. Harriet Kia Wilson of Jersey City, a real corrections officer at the Hudson County Jail in her civilian life, disagreed.
"It's a little easier," she said.
Indeed, U.S. authorities make a point of not referring to Camp Bucca's residents as prisoners. "Detainees," is the official description.
On a recent afternoon, Sgt. Felipe Diaz, a Paterson police officer back home, leaned against the fence and quietly studied the prisoners. Several dozen sat on prayer rugs and read from the Quran. Nearby, a few played pingpong.
Across the compound, on a 20-foot by 20-foot electronic TV set atop a steel pole, the Steve Martin movie "Cheaper by the Dozen" was being broadcast for the prisoners.
Diaz -- serving in Foxtrot with his mother, Carmen, a medic and a cancer nurse back in North Jersey -- recalled how the company spent weeks in anti-riot drills at a remote base in New Mexico before deploying to Iraq in September. Before that, at another base in Pennsylvania, the soldiers devoted hour after hour to honing their shooting skills at a target range.
None of those skills seem to make a difference here. No riots have taken place. No Foxtrot soldier has fired a gun in anger.
"In our training, we prepared for the worst," Diaz said. "We were not expecting this. The days are long here."
It hasn't always been so quiet at Bucca.
A year ago, more than 20,000 prisoners were confined to the facility, and the International Red Cross said the outlying area was too dangerous to visit. At the same time, U.S. military authorities, worried about a recurrence of the Abu Ghraib abuse scandal, threatened to crack down harshly on any violations of prisoner-treatment rules.
Nonetheless, the camp had its share of problems.
In one case, U.S. soldiers were disciplined for staging mud-wrestling fights between female soldiers, after the videos hit YouTube. And last August, six Navy sailors were accused of abusing prisoners.
But military officers say such incidents are rare and that the atmosphere now at Camp Bucca has calmed considerably in recent months.
So far in 2008, four prisoners have escaped, camp officials say. Two others tried to leave and were caught. One prisoner has been charged with murdering another. The last prisoner riots took place in 2007.
Things have quieted outside the camp, too. Officials report no guerrilla attacks on the camp in 2008. And no insurgent bombs have exploded on nearby roads since last spring. The occasional rocket attacks have also ceased.
Indeed, in some ways, the toughest enemy now is complacency.
Lt. Col. Mark Piterski, a former Fairview science teacher, commands an infantry battalion based at the Riverdale armory that monitors security on the base perimeter.
"What do I see out there?" Piterski said. "Lots of desert."
"Do we go out there with the feeling that anything can happen at any time? Yes," Piterski added. But he quickly noted: "It's very safe in this area."
'This place is good'
One a recent afternoon, Foxtrot's 1st Sgt. Scott Card of West Milford, walked up to a group of Iraqis who were cutting the hair of other prisoners. One man approached Card and pointed to a power strip and several attached electrical cords.
"It's broken," the prisoner said.
Card made a note and promised to try to find a new power strip.
"Each compound develops its own personality," Card said of the overall camp, which has 34 different enclosures for prisoners segregated by how dangerous they are deemed to be.
"We're lucky," Card added. "One of our compounds tends to be more complacent. The other is more authoritarian, but it's not bad."
Nor far away, Captain Egan stops by the fence to talk to a prisoner he calls Zak. On prayer rugs nearby, a few dozen prisoners kneel and begin the ritualistic bowing as an imam instructs them in prayer.
"Are you enjoying it here?" Egan asks Zak.
Zak, who speaks English, nods.
"This place is good," he says. "There is no punishment."
The two men pause in silence, each seeming to search for another subject to talk about. Zak speaks first.
He mentions that he feels he has all he needs -- salt, a place to pray, shampoo, potable water.
Egan nods.
Zak mentions that he thinks he may be set free soon.
"Oh, you'll get your 'Happy Papers,' " Egan says, using the nickname for release paperwork.
"We appreciate all you do for us," Zak says. "We are trying for a new start."
Another man approaches. "I know it's your duty to keep me here," he tells Egan. "I respect you because you respect me."
"I know I can trust you guys," Egan answers.
The respectful exchange is increasingly common, Egan says, especially in recent months as U.S. and Iraqi authorities negotiated extensive agreements to remove American troops from major cities and turn over control of prisoners to the Iraqi government.
Many prisoners want to know if they will be allowed to leave soon, Egan says; like parole applicants in jails back home, they are on their best behavior.
The question, Egan says, is how much is genuine.
"It's a hard line to walk," he said. "You treat them with dignity and respect, but you also have to remember that they are detainees here."
For Foxtrot's soldiers, the lack of drama is a welcome relief. During training, each member of the unit learned hand-to-hand fighting skills and had to experience the sting of having their eyes doused with pepper spray.
But the routine can also be boring.
"It's the same thing every day," said Spec. James Diana of Maywood.
Later that evening, Pfc. David Monllor of Haskell, manning one of the guard towers in Foxtrot's area, leaned against the steel railing of the tower and surveyed the camp. On the sandy floor of the compound below, awash in the glare of spotlights, some prisoners sat quietly and talked. A few kicked a soccer ball around. Some hung wash to dry.
"It's mostly quiet here," Monllor said, rubbing his hands together to fight off the desert chill that sets in after the sun goes down. "It's also cold at night. I didn't think it would be this cold."
Across the camp, in his office, Lieutenant Colonel Vereen, the military police commander, says some prisoners write to the U.S. troops after they are set free to thank them. But such gestures are rare, he adds.
If U.S. officials here are sure of anything, he notes, it's that they don't know what will happen when Camp Bucca is closed and most of its prisoners set free.
"You can train a dog all day," Vereen said. "But you don't know all sides of the dog."
***
The military base, located between Basra and Umm Qasr in southeastern Iraq, is a detention center for detainees.
Detention unit
Camp Bucca's detention unit comprises 34 compounds that house as many as 1,000 prisoners. Each of the two compounds guarded by Foxtrot Company has areas for prisoner housing and eating, as well as sections devoted to religious observances and recreation. The compounds are separated from each other by barbed-wire fencing.
Camp population:
Military personnel* - 4,300
Iraqi correctional officers - 900
Contractors - 2,000
Detainees (approx) - 13,000
* U.S. and coalition forces
Daily camp consumption:
Fuel (gallons) - 41,500
Water (gallons) - 365,000
Yearly cost:
Detainee meals - $42,000,000
Detainee supplies - $10,000,000
Fighting Boredom
December 22, 2008
For Soldiers, Mundane Routines and Longing for Home
CAMP BUCCA, Iraq - As war stories go, it's not much. But it's about as dramatic as anything the 120 members of Foxtrot Company have to offer so far.
Not long after the Teaneck-based National Guard unit took up its post at this remote detainee camp in the southern Iraq desert, a prisoner exposed himself to a female soldier.
The soldiers now laugh about the incident. If anything, it's a reminder that, after months of hard combat training -- first at the Teaneck Armory, then in the cool, leafy hills of Pennsylvania, and finally in the searing scrub chaparral of New Mexico -- they find themselves in a war zone that bears little resemblance to a war.
No one has had to dodge an enemy bullet or rocket. The most alarming incident has involved a female soldier dealing with the type of sexual creep she could face on a street back home.
"It's been much easier than I thought it would be," said Pfc. Kasper Biskup, 19, of Ringwood, echoing the sentiment of many Foxtrot soldiers.
By nature, war planning and strategy focuses on death and destruction. But, as Foxtrot Company has learned, going to war is also about going on with life -- of finding ways to pass the numbing boredom at a faraway military base, of figuring out how to keep in touch with loved ones, and of staying focused on the task at hand.
At the camp, which holds some 13,000 Iraqi prisoners, the soldiers have lengthy guard schedules -- 12-hour shifts, six days a week. The remaining hours are spent mostly sleeping in aluminum boxes called "Containerized Housing Units," working out at a gym, eating, reading, sending e-mails home and anticipating surf-and-turf night at the mess hall.
It's not exactly summer camp, not with sandbags and bomb shelters every few yards. But with newsletters that encourage soldiers to "join in the fun" at such events as Karaoke Night, Poker Night and salsa classes, you can understand why some soldiers might feel the war is far beyond the vast desert horizon.
The soldiers cannot wear civilian clothes. But there is a central mall at the camp that has such civilian amenities as a coffee shop, an Internet cafe, a basketball court, a stage for performers and shops selling souvenirs and jewelry.
Still, the fact remains that Foxtrot's citizen soldiers -- kids fresh out of school, grandparents, auto mechanics, white-collar types -- are far from their families at the holidays. They are in a foreign land where danger lurks, the talc-like sand finds its way into every corner and squadrons of flies settle on every tabletop.
"Half the time I'm here, my mind is at home," said Spec. Randy St. Louis, 23, of Roselle, who learned just before he left the United States in September that his wife, Tasia, was pregnant.
St. Louis is hoping he can arrange for a trip home around March 10, when his wife is scheduled to give birth. But he's not sure.
"It pains me a lot to be here," he said.
In her first deployment to Iraq as a truck driver attached to a combat unit five years ago, Lt. Sarah Bernal, 27, of Teaneck found herself "constantly on alert."
"There were many nights I couldn't sleep," she said.
Now, as Foxtrot's deputy commander, Bernal, an investigator for the Bergen County Public Defender's Office in civilian life, finds herself fighting a very different war -- and sleeping more soundly.
"Here you are on alert," she said. "But we're in more of a supporting role."
Every soldier at Camp Bucca carries a rifle or a pistol -- everywhere, including the mess hall and the gym. But few keep their guns loaded. They carry bullets in separate ammunition clips that can be inserted quickly if fighting breaks out.
In a way, that separation of bullets from guns symbolizes much of life here. On one hand, the soldiers know they are in a war zone, replete with body armor and helmets that are always at the ready. Yet, like the sailors in the classic American World War II musical "South Pacific," the war seems to be somewhere else.
For Bernal, that separation allows her to see her Iraqi enemies far differently than during her first deployment, especially now in a prison-camp setting.
"Five years ago, some of these prisoners may have been doing bad things to us," she said. "Now, we get to interact with them and see them as human beings."
Without the tension and focus of combat, Foxtrot's soldiers say they also have more time for themselves and other pursuits. Many have become addicted to exercise -- and weight loss.
Foxtrot's commander, Capt. James Egan of Glen Rock, has dropped 35 pounds from an already trim frame. One of the unit's sergeants, Brenda Alston of Paterson, lost 22 pounds.
"I go to aerobics every morning at 6," she said.
Spec. Kenneth Adolfo is using his time in Iraq to enjoy his first days as a U.S. citizen.
Adolfo, who lives in Bloomfield, enlisted in the Guard even though he was still a citizen of the Philippines. As Foxtrot prepared to head to Iraq, Adolfo filed for U.S. citizenship. Just before the unit left the United States, he received his citizenship papers.
"When I got my citizenship I was excited to go here," Adolfo said as he stood guard by a fence. "I feel like I'm one of the soldiers now."
Just over half of Foxtrot's soldiers have received promotions since arriving in Iraq. Back home, six wives had discovered they were pregnant before the unit shipped out. So far, two have delivered babies.
Only one Foxtrot soldier has been injured here -- in an accident that could have just as easily taken place back in northern New Jersey.
Spec. Greg Appleyard, 22, of North Arlington was repairing a Humvee in October when, as he leaned over the engine, a can of brake fluid burst into flame. He suffered second-degree burns on his hands, arms and face and was sent back to the United States for treatment.
"One of the hardest things I had to do was to put that young man on a helicopter and see him go," said Foxtrot's first sergeant, Scott Card of West Milford.
"I don't know exactly what happened," Appleyard said by telephone from the burn unit at an Army hospital in San Antonio, Texas. "I just remember a flash and fire."
His chief regret, he said, is that he cannot rejoin his comrades in Iraq.
"The temperature and the climate would be too much for me," Appleyard said. "It won't be good for my skin."
Here, in the isolation of the Iraqi desert, Sgt. John Alfonso, 43, says he made a life-changing decision. He could return to civilian life as a Connecticut state trooper, but he's decided to go to nursing school.
"I've seen too much suffering," said Alfonso, a former Army paratrooper who has served in Afghanistan and Iraq before arriving here with Foxtrot. "I'd like to do something that would be more constructive."
Spec. Alex Basile, 20, of Mahwah also made a surprising discovery -- he could keep in close contact with his fiancée, Marissa.
"I thought my deployment would separate us more," Basile said one evening during a break from his guard duties. "I feared it. But I found that this separation actually brought us closer together. There is a lot more communication. And I think being apart for so long helped us to realize we could manage the separation."
Some have faced crisis on the home front.
Egan said several Foxtrot soldiers were allowed to return home briefly because parents became ill. Another had to return to straighten out child-care arrangements.
Pvt. Sarah Zadoyko, 21 of Pompton Lakes, a sorority president at Kean College, interrupted her senior year to deploy with Foxtrot. She has no regrets. On a dare, she even cut her shoulder-length blond hair to a crew cut so she would look like her male counterparts.
"I didn't have to go," she said of her Iraq assignment. "But I just wanted to have that veteran status."
At the same time, she's also fattening her bank account. With her bonus and tax-free salary here, Zadoyko said she expects to save $25,000 to $30,000.
"Where else could someone my age save that kind of money?" she asked.
One of Foxtrot's platoon leaders, Lt. Patrick Moore, a construction manager in New Jersey, is focused on money, too -- but for a different reason. One of his Iraqi translators has a younger sister who needs a kidney transplant.
So far, Moore has raised about $5,000, $3,000 from his construction firm and about $2,000 in commitments from Foxtrot soldiers. But he has far to go. Moore's translator -- a man who goes only by the name Kip -- says he needs $20,000 for his sister's kidney transplant.
"There is no other way," Kip said.
Moore added: "This is why you want to become a soldier. You want to have a positive impact on life. Here, I think I'm doing that."
***
Fast facts
Foxtrot Company's 120 members are based at the Teaneck Armory. They went to Iraq in September as part of the largest deployment of the New Jersey National Guard since World War II. In all, 2,800 citizen soldiers are now in Iraq. Here's a recount of how Foxtrot has fared:
* Number of Foxtrot soldiers promoted in rank while in Iraq: 65
* Babies born to wives of soldiers while unit is in Iraq: 2
* Wives still pregnant: 4
* Soldiers allowed to return home for personal emergencies: 3
* Soldiers injured and sent home: 1
Tuesday: Duty at Camp Bucca has allowed Foxtrot's soldiers to get to know their Iraqi prisoners up close.
***
Making Friends of Enemies
December 23, 2008
Guards, Iraqi Detainees Exchange Bread and Ideas
CAMP BUCCA, Iraq -- The men from New Jersey brought apples and Pop Tarts. The men from Iraq brought cheese and fig jelly.
Both sides ate.
Then they talked.
In almost every war, when the guns go silent, enemies often try to find some measure of common ground, some way to patch up their bloody differences and look to the future.
On a recent morning at this dusty prison camp, several members of the Teaneck-based Foxtrot Company set aside their weapons and walked through a gate to sit down for breakfast with their Iraqi prisoners.
The Record was allowed to observe the meeting but not photograph it.
"This is a great experiment," said an Iraqi prisoner known to the soldiers as "The Chief" as he crossed his legs under him and sat on an ornate red Muslim prayer rug.
"I hope this is the Iraq we will remember when we leave," said Foxtrot's commander, Capt. James Egan of Glen Rock, sitting cross-legged on another prayer rug. "I hope we can tell our children and grandchildren about this."
It was an uncommon moment in a bitter war -- a conversation that touched on U.S. presidential politics, religious extremism in Iraq and even the subtle beauty of Muslim women who cover their faces with veils.
But the interlude was not without a deeper strategy.
U.S. military leaders overseeing Camp Bucca make no secret of their attempt to win the friendship of the 13,000 Iraqis detained here -- all in an effort to stave off future attacks on Americans after the prisoners are set free.
Beginning in early January, the Iraqi government is scheduled to take over control of the prisoner-release process. While U.S. authorities say they believe up to 5,000 detainees here should remain in jail, most others will probably return to their families sometime next year.
For the past year, only about 30 to 40 percent of eligible prisoners were released from Camp Bucca. The prospect of rapidly increasing the release rate of people whom the military calls "detainees" worries U.S. officials, especially after violence has calmed considerably in the past six months.
"Is someone an imminent security risk? If we release him, will he go back to participating in insurgent activities?" asked Capt. Michael Greene of Camp Bucca's military police brigade, voicing a common concern.
Assessing how the prisoners will behave back in their hometowns is no easy task either. In an interview, Air Force Master Sgt. Richard Potocki, a military judge who rules on prisoner releases at Camp Bucca, described the process as an "educated gut decision."
The recent breakfast meeting by Foxtrot is one of several methods the American military is using to improve relations with their Iraqi enemies. Other techniques range from job training and improved medical care to literacy classes and elections of prison camp leaders.
But when it comes to looking into the eyes of your former enemies over breakfast and trying to have a meaningful conversation, there is no field manual.
"We were instructed to do it," said Egan. "But we weren't instructed how to do it."
For Egan, this meant having to understand unfamiliar Arabic customs such as not showing the soles of his feet, which is considered a sign of disrespect. It also means having to figure out when to say he had eaten enough.
During a previous breakfast meeting, Egan says he did not realize his Iraqi hosts would continue to feed him as a sign of friendship until he told them to stop. Not wanting to appear rude, Egan just kept eating -- and his Iraqi hosts kept the food coming.
"I ended up eating a dozen hard-boiled eggs," Egan said.
On the morning of the latest breakfast meeting, Egan and several other Foxtrot soldiers left their weapons, helmets and body armor in a guard shack. Then they stepped through a gate and took off their boots in tribute to the Arabic tradition of removing shoes when entering a home.
"Welcome," said the Chief, whose real name is Saleh. "We are happy that our guests came."
The group gathered in a 10-by-12-foot chain-link enclosure, draped with faded brown cloth, several rugs and an Iraqi flag. It is Saleh's office of sorts, which he is allowed to occupy after he was elected as the top leader of the compound in a vote by prisoners.
Three other detainees entered. An assistant chief named Mohammad sat by the door. The compound's Imam, whose name is Kereen, settled next to the chief. A translator named Zak came in last and dropped down next to Egan.
Four cartons of bottled water were stacked in one corner of the room, and a lone role of toilet paper sat on a shelf. Another shelf was home to a portable boom box, playing a CD of soft Islamic chanting. An orange Gatorade cooler -- the kind you might see at any North Jersey high school football game -- rested on the floor by the door. A half-dozen flies sat on the cooler's white lid.
Saleh, 36, lives in Baghdad, but has been at Camp Bucca for 15 months and, like most other prisoners here, is a Sunni Muslim. He was arrested, he said, in a security sweep of his Baghdad neighborhood.
Egan reached for a piece of creamy cheese. Saleh said through a translator that the cheese was made in Egypt.
Egan nodded and smiled, then spread the cheese on pita bread, a product of Camp Bucca's bakery.
Egan looked up at Saleh.
"When you get out, what will you do?" he asked.
Saleh said he had been a building contractor before he was arrested and wants to return to that. But he worries whether gun battles will break out again and hurt his business.
"If there is security, I can do my job," he said, his voice trailing off.
Zak, the translator, who has been imprisoned at Camp Bucca for 11 months and was an engineer, said he would like to continue studies toward a master's degree, then open an English language institute.
"I'm looking forward to good things for my country," Zak said.
"Us, too," said Egan.
Imam Kereen, 40, who has been held at Camp Bucca for four years, dreams of returning to his farm -- and his four wives.
"When I'm released, maybe I'll export tomatoes," Kereen said.
"I live in the country, too," said Foxtrot's first sergeant, Scott Card of West Milford, who sat across from Egan. "I miss the green."
The conversation continued for another 45 minutes, meandering through a variety of unrelated topics.
At one point, Saleh said he was pleased at how peaceful the U.S. presidential election was. "You have such a smooth changeover," he said.
At another point, Mohammad, a 33-year-old engineer from Fallujah who was arrested almost two years ago, said he was tired of religious extremists trying to get involved in Iraqi politics.
"We have the same problem in the U.S.," said Card. "People take religion to extremes."
Card shifted and said his knees were beginning to hurt. Imam Kereen smiled.
"I can teach you some exercises if you wish," he said.
Card joked that perhaps Kereen could even make a videotape.
"Like YouTube?" Kereen asked, as the group laughed.
Cpl. Saul Colon of Hackensack walked by and stopped to look through the chain-link fence at the group.
"Hey, where's my cheese?" he asked.
Saleh handed Colon a hunk of cheese and a piece of pita.
"They're very interesting people," said Colon, a UPS driver in civilian life. "We try to treat them as human beings."
As the group began to break up, Saleh asked Egan if he would write a short summary of the meeting.
Egan reached for a white pad and a pen.
"On this morning I'm grateful for having had the opportunity to sit down and enjoy the company of great men," he wrote. "We discussed our hopes and dreams for the future of Iraq. On a small scale, a few soldiers and Iraqis were able to develop this friendship. They say each journey starts with small steps. I think this is a great step."
The Iraqis nodded. Saleh placed his hand on his heart -- a sign of gratitude.
Card then took the pad.
"We are all men born under different conditions," he wrote. "But under it all we are all just people. I like the Iraq I see."
Saleh smiled.
"We will show this to our families someday," he said.
***
Detainees
* In January, the Iraqi government will begin proceedings that could lead to the eventual release of about 8,000 of the roughly 13,000 prisoners now being held at Camp Bucca.
* About 80 percent of the 13,000 prisoners are Sunni Muslims, with the remaining 20 percent mostly Shiite.
* The majority of prisoners are under 40, with the single largest group -- about 60 percent -- ranging in age from 18 to 29.
* U.S. military intelligence officials have reached several conclusions about why many of the prisoners at Camp Bucca became involved in insurgent activities. The most prominent factor is money. Another key factor was fear that their families would be harmed if they did not obey insurgent demands. A third factor was nationalism. The fourth factor was religion and a desire to engage in jihad.
* On a recent week, more than 1,399 prisoners were able to meet with families and others at the visitation center. The International Red Cross provides money for families to travel from other parts of Iraq.
* Military officials estimate 40 percent of Camp Bucca's prisoners are illiterate. Almost 900 prisoners are enrolled in basic language and math classes.
* The rate of prisoners returning to detainment facilities in Iraq after they are released is about 1 percent, according to the U.S. military.
Wednesday: The soldiers of Foxtrot prepare for Christmas.
Yuletide Yearnings for Home
December 24, 2008
Christmas Brings Conflicting Emotions for Guard
CAMP BUCCA, Iraq -- There's a Christmas tree in the trailer that serves as the company headquarters and inflatable snowmen and colored lights on the stairs outside. There are even presents -- more than 50 boxes arriving on one recent day for Foxtrot Company, a New Jersey National Guard outfit based in Teaneck.
But as soldiers have discovered in countless wars, Christmas during wartime is a dance of conflicting emotions -- between your duties overseas and your duties back home.
One of Foxtrot's staff sergeants, John Roldan of Cliffside Park, knows this truth all too painfully.
Roldan recently telephoned home from this rambling desert base in a remote corner of southern Iraq to check on how his family's Christmas plans were shaping up. Roldan's 5-year-old son, Brandon, got on the line and announced he had just visited Santa Claus and asked for only one present -- for his Dad to come home for Christmas.
"I had to say, 'There are too many daddies out here, and Santa can't fit them all in the bag,' " Roldan said.
As he recounted the story one recent evening at the compound where Foxtrot and other American military units guard some 13,000 Iraqi prisoners, Roldan wondered if he could have said something more comforting. He fell silent for a few seconds, then shook his head.
"I hope my son understands," he said.
As many Foxtrot soldiers are finding here, Christmas in a war zone is a compromise of the heart, where few answers work well. The soldiers can send presents to loved ones -- and receive them, too. They can also decorate their living quarters with lights and small Christmas trees. They can even pop a Christmas CD into a boom box.
But no amount of garland, tinsel or Christmas carols can bridge the distance from home.
Felipe Diaz, a Paterson police officer, talks frequently to his 5-year-old son, Jayden, on a video phone. Before leaving New Jersey, Diaz was so concerned that his son would miss him and forget what he looked like that he recorded video messages to be played at his son's birthday in the fall and at holidays.
But the video phone has helped bridge the gap.
"I can see him every few days," Diaz said. "It's not as good as being there. But it's better than I expected."
Foxtrot's first sergeant, Scott Card of West Milford, said many relatives and friends back home have donated phone cards for soldiers to use when they call their families.
"I have thousands of phone cards sitting in the office," Card said. "Each one is worth an hour of phone time. So calling home is not a problem for any soldier who wants to do that."
But calling home is not like visiting in person.
The Army allows soldiers in Iraq to leave the war zone for two-week sojourns. The problem is, not everyone can go at Christmas.
Card and other sergeants and officers of Foxtrot all decided not to go home in December so that lower-ranking soldiers with young children could return home. As part of a special Army program, any soldier can travel home for free as long as the unit commander approves the furlough.
"We'll try to get away after the holidays," said Foxtrot's commander, Capt. James Egan of Glen Rock. "It just has to wait."
Staff Sgt. Fred Brown, a security guard at a Newark elementary school who runs night operations at Foxtrot's command center here, opted to take his leave long before the holiday season, in mid-fall and not long after the unit arrived at Camp Bucca.
"To go home was definitely uplifting," said the 51-year-old Brown, who has four children and previously served with a N.J. Guard unit at the Guantanamo Bay detention center in 2005.
But now, Brown has no more chances to see his family until Foxtrot returns to New Jersey in June.
"That's the downside," Brown said.
Brown's office in a corner of the command center is adorned with silver garland and cards that Foxtrot soldiers have received. On a recent evening, Brenda Lee's rendition of "Rocking Around the Christmas Tree" blared from a boom box. In another office, from another boom box, Frank Sinatra sang "I'll Be Home for Christmas."
Card knelt on the floor and opened a cardboard box.
"We just got this in the mail just today," he said, pulling back the flaps.
Card reached inside and found a plastic green Christmas wreath and an array of soaps and lotions for the soldiers.
"People are really generous to us," he said, looking around the headquarters office for a spot to hang the wreath.
Card's fiancée, Brenda Bishop of West Milford, is responsible for sending the inflatable penguin and snowmen that now adorn the unit's headquarters door and front steps.
Inside, Foxtrot's lone Jewish soldier, Lt. Sarah Bernal of Teaneck, provided the unit's 5-foot artificial Christmas tree. Other Foxtrot's soldiers, in turn, placed a small silver menorah on a nearby shelf so Bernal could celebrate Hanukkah.
Not all the decorating takes place at Camp Bucca, though.
Sgt. Brenda Alston, 44, a grandmother from Paterson who works at the Kraft factory in Fair Lawn when she is not serving in the National Guard, said she usually decorates her family's Christmas tree herself. This year, however, from 6,300 miles away, she developed a new method.
Alston hooked up a video phone to her computer, then dialed her husband in Paterson. With her husband, Samuel, an auto mechanic, streaming a live shot of the family's tree, Alston issued instructions on where to place the various decorations.
"It felt kind of funny," Alston recalled afterwards. "It was challenging. But it was nice to know that my husband and I could put up the tree together."
As Christmas approached, Pfc. Bradley Dumeny, 20, of Union learned that he had received an early gift: He could take a two-week leave and go home.
Dumeny, who became engaged just before he left for Iraq, made immediate plans to fly home to visit his fiancée.
"Here is like, I'm trapped in a bottle and someone has just thrown that bottle in the ocean and my fiancée found that bottle on a paradise island," Dumeny said.
For Christmas, Dumeny is hoping for some quiet time at home. But on New Year's Eve, he has something special in mind for his fiancée.
"I want to go to Times Square," he said.
Sacrifice on the Home Front | Soldier's Mom Fills a Void
December 25, 2008
CAMP BUCCA, Iraq -- Spec. Marlene Martinez studies a baby boy's photograph and wonders about the hard choice she made when she deployed to this desert camp with her Teaneck-based National Guard unit.
Who would care for her infant son, Josiah, born only last January?
Martinez, a 21-year-old single mom assigned here with the Guard's Foxtrot Company, found an answer in a Ridgefield apartment, some 6,300 miles away.
Her mother stepped forward.
War is not just a matter of sacrifices on the front lines. It is often a sacrifice on the home front, too. In the case of Marlene Martinez and her son, it was also a matter of extreme giving from her mother.
Every soldier who deploys to Iraq leaves behind an empty chair -- and holes to fill when it comes to some of the basics of living. There are lawns to mow, bills to pay, plumbing to fix, windows to wash.
For many families, there are also children to raise.
For Martinez's mother, Mary Fernandez, 37, taking care of her daughter's son was not easy. Fernandez, also a single mother, has a toddler of her own -- a daughter, Shailene, now 3.
To take care of Shailene and her grandson, Fernandez quit her job with a housecleaning business and became a stay-at-home mom.
"It's like having twins," Fernandez said the other day.
On the other side of the world, at Camp Bucca in the southern Iraq desert where Foxtrot Company guards Iraqi prisoners at a sprawling detention facility, Marlene Martinez ponders another set of emotional obstacles: How to maintain a mother's emotional bond to a baby who was only 5 months old when she was called up for overseas duty?
"It's hard. It's really hard," Martinez said one afternoon at Camp Bucca as she took a break. "The first year is the year when they start doing everything, crawling and walking. I have to miss all of that. All I can do is hear about it from people at home."
While the military tries to make some allowances for soldiers to stay home from an overseas deployment, a single mother with an infant does not necessarily fall into the category of a family emergency.
Martinez said she declined to apply for an exemption as a new mother, explaining that she did not want to let her fellow soldiers down by staying behind. Still when she learned last March -- only two months after giving birth -- that she would leave with Foxtrot Company for Iraq in only a few months, she had to scramble for help.
Her baby's father was also a National Guard soldier, heading to Iraq with a different unit. But Martinez said she and the father had become estranged. So she looked to her own family.
Her mother offered to help.
"I saw how concerned and worried she was," Fernandez said. "I saw she couldn't sleep, thinking about how she is going to do it."
In her apartment in Ridgefield on another recent afternoon, Fernandez smiled proudly as she watched her grandson crawl across the floor, then lift himself up to stand by a coffee table. Besides Marlene, Fernandez has two grown daughters -- Darlene, 18, and Arlene, 16 -- along with her 3-year-old, Shailene.
"It's a lot harder than I thought," she said.
Fernandez takes Shailene to nursery school each day. Just the same, she finds that caring for an 11-month-old boy -- her grandson -- is a handful.
"This is a new experience," Fernandez said, as she lifted Josiah on her lap and kissed him. "He is the first boy in the family. I feel like a new mother."
In Iraq, Martinez says she is able to call her mother several times a week. The two have even linked up on a computer video so Martinez can see her baby boy.
"He's big," she said, smiling. "He's changed a lot. He has so much hair now. He looks like a little boy. He's not a baby anymore."
As she described her son, Martinez beamed with pride. She says her son listens as she speaks to him on the computer video camera phone. And Fernandez tries to assure her daughter that Josiah seems to perk up and pay attention when Martinez calls.
But as a mother, Martinez fears the worst.
"I don't know if he knows me," she said.
Martinez keeps a large photo of Josiah on the wall by her desk at Foxtrot's headquarters trailer where she is assigned to process the unit's paperwork. On the wall of the trailer she shares with three other female Foxtrot soldiers, she has taped more than a dozen snapshots of Josiah.
"It's sad," she said. "I have days when I just cry because I miss him so much. I try not to think about it."
Martinez recently learned that she had received permission to travel back to New Jersey for two weeks in January. She hopes to be home in time to celebrate Josiah's first birthday on Jan. 8.
"I don't think he's forgotten me," she said. "I don't think he can forget his mother. I just think we'll have to get to know each other again. He has a different personality now. It's going to be fun."
But the experience will also be difficult. "I'm going to have to leave," Martinez said. "By the time we get to know each other, it's going to be time for me to go again."
With her daughter home, Fernandez says she plans to try to take a short vacation of her own with relatives in New York City.
"Sometimes I feel trapped," she said.
But Fernandez said she has no regrets about her role in her daughter's war service.
"I would do it again," Fernandez said. "I love her and I love Josiah. I know what she's doing. She's sacrificing in Iraq. So I'm trying to do my best."
Ordinary Soldiers, Extraordinary Job
December 28, 2008
CAMP BUCCA, IRAQ
THEY ARE TWO cops from Clifton. They don't need to be at this remote desert base in southern Iraq. But Dave Pereda and Wayne Stine came anyway.
Both are volunteers who signed up with the New Jersey National Guard knowing they would be taken from the streets of Northern New Jersey to the sands of Iraq. Their story is worth remembering, especially now, as the violence that marked so much of this difficult and painful war seems to have calmed down, and U.S. troops here prepare to turn over more responsibilities on Jan. 1 to Iraqi army units.
Pereda and Stine came because they wanted to serve.
Wars are often framed and punctuated by the high-minded, sometimes hollow rhetoric of politicians back home. But among soldiers on the front lines, war often is personal. It's not so much about politics. It's about something far deeper, far more basic.
"We believe in our country and our way of life," said Pereda, a National Guard sergeant, who joined the Guard after a stint in the Nineties with the Marines. "We joined hoping we'd be deployed."
"I just wanted to help out," added Stine, a National Guard staff sergeant, who served with the Marines in the 1991 Persian Gulf War. "I think it's a privilege and an honor to serve my country."
Keep in mind that Pereda and Stine are already serving their country as Clifton police officers. But they wanted to do more. Or, as another National Guard volunteer, Sgt. David Kist of Elmwood Park, told me: "I like to be involved."
That sense of devotion among soldiers is uniquely apparent here - and it's not propaganda or something said to impress military brass or for political spin. It's real.
For much of this year, I have been a member of a Record team of photographers, writers and editors who chronicled the deployment of the New Jersey National Guard to Iraq. We have followed Guard units in training in Pennsylvania and in New Mexico.
Earlier this month, I journeyed to Iraq with photographer Tyson Trish, first to report on several New Jersey units stationed in the Baghdad area and then to this sprawling prison camp in southern Iraq to continue our coverage of the Teaneck-based Foxtrot Company.
The experience of watching ordinary people from northern New Jersey transform themselves into soldiers has been nothing short of inspiring. The National Guard troops range from athletic 18-year-olds just out of high school to 50-something grandparents, from new mothers who left behind infants to fathers and mothers of teenagers. They include salesmen and factory workers, accountants and teachers. In short, a cross-section of New Jersey.
But it's worth remembering that none was forced into service. All volunteered for the National Guard, not necessarily because they yearned for combat - indeed, few soldiers want to get shot at.
Many say they enjoyed the extra cash from military service and the educational benefits. But beneath those practical reasons, many say they merely wanted to help their country, to have a feeling that they were contributing more to life.
They did this knowing they could end up in Iraq or Afghanistan.
I met Dave Pereda and Wayne Stine one evening at the Camp Bucca mess hall. Pereda happened to recognize me from my stint covering the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans in 2005 and introduced himself.
In New Orleans, Pereda had volunteered to join almost 200 other New Jersey cops to help bolster security on the city's flooded, mud-caked streets. Here, in Iraq, he was a volunteer again.
"We felt a call to service again," Pereda said, smiling.
Pereda's simple, straight-forward reasoning was enlightening. As he spoke, it struck me that we don't often get a chance on the politically charged home front to reflect on these soldierly sentiments as they are - honest, basic windows into the souls of good men and women.
Framed by politics back home, such words are often misused, as one side in the Iraq war debate tries to make the other look foolish or unpatriotic. Here, spoken by soldiers in a war zone, such sentiments took on a fundamental, non-partisan clarity.
As Pereda explained his desire to serve, he did not mention politics. Nor did Stine. There seemed no need for that. These were just two Jersey guys who felt a call to serve their country - period.
Pereda and Stine are part of a Riverdale-based National Guard infantry unit that patrols the perimeter of Camp Bucca and outlying roads. They look for suspicious people and possible booby-trap bombs.
The work is tense and tedious. What I found interesting was not so much what they did, but the mindset they brought to their task - and their basic reasoning of why they are glad to be here.
"It's a place that needs our help," said Stine. "I was happy to make it over here and do my part."
As this war winds down, it's worth remembering such words of ordinary soldiers.
Home Next Christmas
December 30, 2008
Citizen-Soldiers Serving in War Zones
Editorial
The holidays are a particularly difficult time for those New Jersey families with a loved one serving in Iraq or Afghanistan.
This season, the troops from New Jersey stationed in Iraq include the 2,800 soldiers of the 50th Infantry Brigade Combat Team, the largest deployment of Garden State National Guard units since World War II. Among those units is Foxtrot Company, which left last summer from the Teaneck Armory.
Record Columnist Mike Kelly and Staff Photographer Tyson Trish recently returned from covering the citizen-soldiers in both Baghdad and at an immense detention center near Basra, where they are guarding some 13,000 Iraqi prisoners.
We are reminded by the series of articles and photographs that resulted of the courage, sacrifice and service of these soldiers, of how much they miss their families -- at Christmas and all the time they are away -- and of their diversity and humanity. They range in age from recent high school graduates to grandparents. They include new mothers, fathers awaiting the birth of a baby back home and the newly engaged. They come from all walks of life: teachers, EMTs, computer engineers and personal trainers.
Among them is a Kean College student and sorority president who interrupted her senior year to deploy. Another is an investigator for the Bergen County Public Defender's Office. There is also a captain in the detective bureau of the Lodi Police Department, an FBI counterintelligence agent from Emerson and a UPS driver from Hackensack.
There is a New York City firefighter who joined the New Jersey National Guard because he liked the camaraderie, and a Paterson police officer who is serving in Foxtrot along with his mother, a medic and a cancer nurse.
Their families and friends are somewhat reassured by the fact that Iraq is a less dangerous place than it was a year ago. But it is still a war zone, and while the soldiers are not in direct combat, they are performing jobs that come with risk. Many are working at one of Iraq's largest prison camps, guarding prisoners and managing the camp's eventual closure.
Others are helping to govern the Green Zone, the section of Baghdad that contains the U.S. Embassy and Iraq's main government offices. Their jobs include overseeing security, rebuilding infrastructure and training the city's fire department. Still others are members of an elite New Jersey National Guard team that protects U.S. spies, one of the most dangerous assignments.
Whatever the assignment, and whether their personal stories have appeared in The Record's series or are only known to immediate family and friends, these citizen-soldiers are husbands, wives, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, brothers and sisters. They all have people waiting anxiously for them back home and counting the days until they return.
The experience of John Roldan speaks for all of them. He is a Foxtrot staff sergeant from Cliffside Park who called home before Christmas to speak to his son. The boy told him that he had visited Santa and asked for only one present: to have his dad home for Christmas.
Roldan tried to explain the situation in a way a 5-year-old would understand: "I had to say, 'There are too many daddies out here, and Santa can't fit them all in the bag.' "
But Santa will deliver next June, when the New Jersey National Guard units are scheduled to leave Iraq and head home.
* * *
Part Iv: Home
Trying to Explain the Iraq War
February 23, 2009
After-School Visit Gives Students Chance to Ask Soldier About His Experiences
The boy in the blue T-shirt had a question for the solder from Iraq.
How did the war start?
"Oh, boy," the soldier answered. "That's a hard one."
Children often have a disarming way of cutting through the complicated fog of life -- and war, too. So it was at the Apshawa Elementary School in West Milford one afternoon last week, when 1st Sgt. Scott Card of the New Jersey National Guard paid a visit to an after-school program where his fiancée, Brenda Bishop, works.
Card was home in West Milford for a two-week vacation from his duties at Camp Bucca, a sprawling military detention center in the southern Iraq desert where about 13,000 Iraqi insurgents are guarded by 4,000 U.S. soldiers, including 1,000 from the New Jersey National Guard. He returned to Iraq on Sunday.
Card's unit, Foxtrot Company, which is based at the Teaneck Armory and has been the subject of numerous articles by The Record, arrived at Camp Bucca in September and is scheduled to return to New Jersey this June.
Some Apshawa students, meanwhile, have adopted Foxtrot soldiers and regularly exchange letters and small gifts. Last week, Apshawa's students were hard at work on dozens of shamrock-shaped notes to Foxtrot's soldiers in preparation for St. Patrick's Day next month.
"Did you know Obama is your new president?" asked one student in his shamrock note. Another student took the opportunity to explain how he had misbehaved in the classroom: "I was dancing on the table and then fell off."
Card, who wore his camouflage Army uniform, spent more than an hour fielding questions -- including one from the boy in the blue T-shirt about the origins of the war. Indeed, it's a question many generals and political leaders have trouble answering.
Smiling, Card paused.
"That's a question that would take a lot of time to answer, I'm sure," he said.
Another question from another boy was easier.
"How are the people in Iraq?" the boy asked. "Do they live a normal life?"
Again, Card smiled.
"Most Iraqis are much like you," he said. "They have different customs and different beliefs. But when you get to know them deep down, they're actually good people. They're not all bad. There were a certain amount that were bad. But most are good people."
Mikey, another student, asked, "What's it like in Iraq?"
"Think of the moon," Card said. "It's a desert. Nothing really lives there. It's sandy. It's hot during the day. It gets very cold at night. When I first got there, it was 130 degrees. At night, the temperature drops to 42 degrees."
Tori, a sixth-grader, asked about food.
In writing letters to Foxtrot, Tori discovered that the soldiers can enjoy a few small culinary comforts of home at Camp Bucca -- namely a Subway sandwich shop and a Burger King.
"Do the Iraqis eat at Subway like you guys?" Tori asked.
Card shook his head.
"No," he said. "They get to eat their own types of food. They have lots of vegetables and some meat and usually pita bread and chai tea."
And so it went. As the hour passed, more children raised their hands and peppered Card with more questions.
What kind of guns does he carry? An M4 carbine and M9 pistol, said Card, adding, "And I have not shot them once in Iraq."
Does he ride in an armored tank? No. But Card said he and other soldiers occasionally ride in special armored trucks -- M-Raps -- that were designed to protect them from roadside bombs.
"Woah," said the children as Card showed snapshots of an M-Rap.
Where does he sleep? Card said his home is a trailer-like unit that he shares with Foxtrot's commander, Capt. James Egan of Glen Rock.
"He's my pen pal," said Tori, of Captain Egan.
One boy asked if Card is ever afraid that "bad people" might be hiding in bushes near his sleeping quarters?
"No," said Card.
Another boy asked if Card is "actually fighting."
Card described Foxtrot's task of guarding Iraqis who were arrested by U.S. authorities after insurgent attacks. But he used the opportunity to touch on a far more delicate issue.
"Part of my job is teaching them that Americans aren't bad people," Card said. "It's nice to fight with someone, but we don't want to fight with them forever, do we?"
"No," the students answered.
"Sooner or later," Card continued, "you'd like to prove to them that you're not the person they thought you were. One of my main goals is to prove to the Iraqis is that Americans aren't bad people."
Card paused, then touched on an even more delicate issue.
"Just because we put them in jail doesn't mean we have to treat them badly, right?" he said.
"Yes," the students answered.
Card asked if anyone had a final question.
A girl raised her hand.
"How are you getting back to Iraq?" she asked.
Card described the series of flights on commercial jetliners from Newark to Atlanta to Germany and Kuwait -- then a bus to a helicopter base in Kuwait, then a helicopter to Camp Bucca.
The girl raised her hand again.
"And then you jump out of the helicopter?"
Card laughed.
"No," he said. "Thank goodness."
* * *
The War Back Home
March 8, 2009
Returning Guard Units Face New Enemy - the Economy
It's just another neighborhood store, a place where you can buy most anything, from onions to aspirin. But the Quick Shop Grocery in Clifton may soon become something else entirely -- a casualty of the Iraq war.
Since owner Miguel Villavicencio left for Iraq in September with his Teaneck-based New Jersey National Guard unit, the store's sales have slumped 70 percent as his wife and teenage daughter have struggled to keep the cash register ringing.
With North Jersey's economic woes worsening, the store's future is bleak.
"We're thinking of closing," Miguel's wife, Blanca, said one day last week. "It's been very hard."
Ripples of war are not just confined to the combat zone. Here in northern New Jersey, the wounds from the Iraq war are turning up in a variety of scenarios, from frayed marriages to college studies interrupted when students were called up to full-time military service.
But increasingly, these home-front wounds are economic as unemployment rises, wages remain stagnant for those still working, foreclosures mount and small-business owners find themselves straining to balance the books.
There are government job protections in place for citizen soldiers who answer the call. But in a growing number of cases, the protections are powerless to overcome the staggering economy.
One soldier from Miguel Villavicencio's unit -- Foxtrot Company -- learned recently that a job he thought was being held for his return had disappeared. His employer, Circuit City, went out of business.
Six other Foxtrot soldiers recently requested permission from the Army to stay behind in Iraq with other combat units because they fear they won't have jobs back home.
Meanwhile, yet another member of Foxtrot learned that his family in Paterson has to figure out a way to pay for heat in their rented home. The landlord had agreed to pay the heating bill. But that was before he ran into financial problems of his own, missed several mortgage payments and was told he faced foreclosure.
"It's certainly been tough for people," said Jean Michele Moore, who volunteered to keep track of Foxtrot's families while her husband, Patrick, is with the unit in Iraq.
For soldiers who own their own businesses, the financial strains are especially acute. Certainly that's the case at the Quick Shop Grocery, a convenience store on Crooks Avenue in Clifton.
Villavicencio, a Peruvian immigrant, joined the National Guard just after the 9/11 attacks. He is 42 and holds the rank of specialist with Foxtrot Company.
"I wanted to give something back to my country," he said in an interview last summer before he left for Iraq.
But Villavicencio's departure for the war zone created a none-too-small family dilemma: What to do with his small convenience store?
The government job protections don't offer much help for the self-employed.
Villavicencio's wife, Blanca, offered to run the store, along with the couple's 17-year-old daughter, Daniela.
But Blanca and Daniela had never run the store before.
"This was my father's world," said Daniela, a senior at Clifton High School. "My dad really has a knack for this. He's a people person. We're still learning to do that."
Blanca usually opens the store each day around 8 a.m. Just after 1 p.m., Daniela, who plans to study pre-law at Rider University next fall, leaves school and takes over at the store. Blanca then usually heads out to buy items to restock the shelves.
In recent months, the recession has hit hard.
Before Miguel Villavicencio left for Iraq, the store grossed as much as $450 each day, said Blanca. Now, she said, the store is selling only $70 to $100 of items each day.
"We're having to dip into our savings to pay the bills," she said.
Financial quandaries are not uncommon for soldiers. Only last month, the U.S. Department of Labor, reported that unemployment rates for returning soldiers in their early 20s had jumped to 15 percent, about twice the national average.
At the state's National Guard headquarters near Trenton, staffers say they were recently contacted by the Pentagon to survey returning soldiers about how unemployment, foreclosures and low wages have affected them.
Indeed, New Jersey may be a test case for how the economic crisis has impacted soldiers' lives. Some 2,800 citizen-soldiers from New Jersey were deployed to Iraq last September with the 50th Infantry Brigade Combat Team -- the largest overseas deployment by the New Jersey National Guard since World War II.
The unit is scheduled to return to New Jersey in June, amid what's likely to be dismal economic news.
"The real test is when they come home," said Chief Warrant Officer Patrick Daugherty, a New Jersey Guard spokesman.
At the Teaneck Armory, home base of Foxtrot Company, job counselors are gearing up to help soldiers when they return in June. But they've already begun to offer advice to family members on a variety of issues, from how to strengthen marriages to how to detect whether a soldier has post-traumatic stress syndrome.
John Bautz, a retired National Guard soldier who works for the state Department of Labor, heads to the armory each week from his office in Hackensack. Increasingly, he said, he hears a common concern among the spouses and children who stop by his desk.
"It's the economy," he said. "It's on everybody's mind."
In Iraq, Foxtrot Company's commander, Capt James Egan of Glen Rock, said that at least six of the unit's 120 soldiers have inquired about remaining in Iraq after the unit returns home.
"Some have claimed that their reason for requesting the extension is because the money, while deployed, is good and because they do not have a job to go to when we return home," Egan said in an e-mail to The Record from Foxtrot's base at Camp Bucca in southern Iraq.
"The Army is a great career when it comes to stability," Egan added, "and soldiers are aware of this."
In his own case, Egan said he feels grateful to be part of a firm "that takes care of its employees in the service." He works as a salesman for the surgical equipment firm, Covidien, and has been assured he will have a job waiting for him when he comes home.
Nonetheless, Egan -- and his family back home -- are worried about other soldiers.
Egan's father, Tom, who was a medic with the First Cavalry Division in Vietnam and now commands a VFW post in Glen Rock, is organizing veterans to collect food and money for soldiers' families. So far, said Egan, his VFW post and others in Bergen County have donated more than $20,000 in food and cash for the Teaneck Armory's family-assistance center.
"It's definitely getting worse," said the elder Egan of the economic woes in North Jersey.
What's more, the full extent of how the economy has affected soldiers may not be known until after they return.
"The work is going to begin when they get back," said Jean Michele Moore, Foxtrot's family liaison.
Tom Egan agreed.
"This is not going to end when these soldiers come back home," he said. "Their families will be in deep need. Their mortgages will have to be paid. We will have to be the ones to help them as best we can."
***
Times have certainly changed
At the end of last June, 2,800 members of the Army National Guard left New Jersey, first for a summer of training in the New Mexico desert, then to deploy to Iraq. During the ensuing eight months, the economy of the state has gone into a downward spiral.
July 2008 January 2009
* Unemployment rate (N.J.)
5.5% 7.3%
* Employed adults (N.J.)
4,252,600 4,173,700
July 2008 January 2009
* First-time unemployment claims (N.J.)
11,200 17,400*
* Troubled home loans (N.J.)
2,200 3,364***
July 2008 January 2009
* U.S. government debt
9.5 trillion 10.9 trillion
(Up nearly $5,000 for every man, woman and child in U.S.)
* Gas (one gallon, regular)
$4 $1.77**
** March 2009 *February 2009
***New Jersey saw a 53 percent increase from July 2008 to January in the number of homeowners far enough behind on their mortgage payments to have foreclosure proceedings started against them by lenders.
Sources: New Jersey Labor Department, U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, U.S. Labor Department, U.S. Energy Information Administration, National Association of Realtors, RealtyTrac Inc.
6 Years of Sacrifice
March 19, 2009
Long War Has Altered Many Lives
Column:
A mother in Teaneck organizes a weekly peace vigil. Another mother in Paterson pays a weekly visit to a graveyard in Totowa to remember a son who is not even listed as an official war casualty. A father in Emerson who lost a son longs for a parade to honor all soldiers who served.
This is just a glimpse of how the Iraq war plays out across the North Jersey landscape.
Every war speaks to us in many voices, many experiences, with many wounds. Today, on its sixth anniversary, the Iraq conflict is still as overwhelming and constant as ever on the homefront.
More than anything, however, it is still deeply personal.
"We just miss him so much," said Peggy Carvill-Liguori of her brother, Frank, a Carlstadt resident who worked for the Port Authority at the World Trade Center and survived the Sept. 11, 2001, attack but was killed in Baghdad in 2004 while serving with the New Jersey National Guard.
Sgt. Frank Carvill was 51 when he died. His sister, who lives in Kinnelon, said on Wednesday that the family
remembered him again this year on St. Patrick's Day.
But she also conceded that time has a way of soothing the pain.
"We never forget him," Carvill-Liguori said. "You don't have that overwhelming sadness you had initially. You just learn to live with that sadness better."
For some, like Juliet Sara of Paterson, it is the still-vivid memory of a son's funeral and a grave she visits each week.
"I love him. I remember him," Sara said of her son, Ibrahim, a civilian translator who was killed in 2006 while on patrol with a Marine Corps unit in Iraq.
But don't look for Ibrahim Sara among the names of the more than 4,250 U.S. war dead in Iraq. Because Sara was a civilian contractor, his name is not on the official list.
To his mother, though, Ibraham died as a soldier.
"I don't forget him," she said.
For others, the war brings an uncertain knowledge that a friend or neighbor is trying to cope with life while a spouse is serving overseas -- and the question of what to do about it.
"Some families call about leaky roofs and we have to get it fixed," said National Guard Capt. Donald Kennedy of Waldwick, an Iraq combat veteran, who is serving as a rear detachment commander while his Morristown-based unit is in Iraq.
For others, like Paula Rogovin of Teaneck, who organized another peace vigil on Wednesday outside the township's National Guard armory, the Iraq conflict means trying to reconcile her stalwart anti-war fervor with her son's equally stalwart desire to serve his country.
"It's turned my life upside down," said Rogovin, a New York City public school teacher.
As a younger woman, Rogovin marched against the Vietnam War, but she concedes she never had much contact with the military. Now, as a mother, the emotional tables have turned. Her son, Eric, is a Marine Corps captain who has deployed twice to Iraq.
"To have my own child in a war you don't believe in, when you think that war is immoral, is tough," Rogovin said.
Rogovin said she worried so much about her son's safety in Iraq that she often stopped her car a block from her home -- just to make sure a Marine casualty officer was not outside, waiting to deliver bad news.
"I cry. I don't want my child in harm's way," Rogovin said. "But I'm very proud of my son. He's committed to his work. He has a mission to do. He's doing his mission and I'm doing mine."
Rogovin's anti-war mission is not just about organizing protests, though. As part of the weekly vigil at the Teaneck Armory, Rogovin asks protesters to bring baby supplies and food, which are then donated to families of soldiers serving in Iraq.
"We're not against the troops," she said. "We're for the troops."
Ron Griffin of Emerson feels the same commitment to supporting the troops -- but for different reasons.
Griffin's 20-year-old son, Kyle, a specialist with the 101st Airborne Division, was killed in May 2003 in a truck accident in Iraq. Since then, Griffin has devoted much of his free time to drawing attention to the heroism of soldiers -- a stance that has caused him to run afoul of war opponents.
Two years ago Griffin asked that his son's name and photo be removed from a war memorial outside the Washington office of Sen. Frank Lautenberg, after the New Jersey Democrat criticized the war. Now that the war is winding down, Griffin is campaigning for a welcome-home ticker-tape parade in Manhattan.
"I have to believe that my son died for a tremendous purpose," Griffin said. "You can argue about whether we should have or could have been in the war, but you have to look at where we are right now. It has been nothing short of a magnificent victory."
Not everyone is so sure.
The Rev. Anna Benedetto of Wayne, an ardent war opponent, says the Iraq conflict provoked many to reexamine America's values.
"I think it motivated people to want change," said Benedetto, who designated her church, the Lakeland Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Wayne, as a peace site.
"There is a positive and a negative to everything," she said. "So much life was lost. But the country woke up."
Maybe so. But clearly the Iraq war is winding down. This June, some 2,800 New Jersey National Guard soldiers are scheduled to return home from the war zone.
What this means for the future is anybody's guess.
"Not to sound like a cliché," said the National Guard's Captain Kennedy, "but I hope we don't snatch defeat from the jaws of victory."
***
(SIDEBARS)
Key figures since the war began
166,000 October 2007, troop level at its highest
138,000 Current troop level as of March 13
4,259 Number of U.S. troop deaths as of March 17
31,102 Number of U.S. troops wounded in action as of Feb. 28
91,121 Number of Iraqi civilians killed since the 2003 invasion
Over $605 billion* Overall cost of the war
*According to the National Priorities Project
Iraqi people with potable water:
12.9 million Prewar
21.1 million Jan. 15, 2009
States with highest number of U.S. troop deaths as of March 17:
457 California
402 Texas
192 Pennsylvania
188 Florida
182 New York
174 Ohio
156 Michigan
151 Illinois
95 New Jersey
17 North Jersey
Internet subscribers in Iraq:
4,900 September 2003
688,410 January 2009
Family Is Left to Agonize Over a Senseless Death Slaying Puts Focus on Combat Stress
May 14, 2009
Column:
The father shook his head from side to side.
"My son was brave," he said. "I'm really proud of my son. But ...."
The father fell silent, and tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. He reached for his wife's hand, glanced at two flickering candles on a table and looked up to speak the words no parent ever wants to say.
"I don't like the way he died."
Once again, the Iraq war has paid a painful visit to New Jersey -- this time on a street on Paterson's south side, to a family that came to America from Peru in search of a better life.
But the death of Sgt. Christian E. Bueno Galdos of Paterson may be the hardest to comprehend of the 111 New Jersey soldiers who have perished in Iraq since 2003.
Bueno Galdos, 25, who leaves behind a wife, did not die in combat. Nor was he slain by a roadside bomb planted by the enemy or even the victim of an accident. U.S. military officials say he - and four other U.S. servicemen - were deliberately shot to death earlier this week by a U.S. soldier at a Baghdad military counseling center for overstressed or emotionally troubled soldiers.
Why Bueno Galdos was at the counseling center is still a mystery. His family said on Wednesday that he never hinted he was tormented by any personal problems. He did not even seem the least bit unhappy when he was dispatched to Iraq last August with his armored regiment for his second tour of duty in the war zone.
His father, Carlos Julio Bueno, who works at a nearby factory, said he thinks his son may have been at the center to help other soldiers. But who knows?
On Wednesday, as rosebuds in a front garden soaked up the May sun, a family gathered inside its home on Paterson's Columbia Avenue and tried to make sense of war and the mysteries of a senseless killing.
On the next block, workers spilled out of a flag-making company and roofing firm after another ordinary day on the job. From across the back fence, a rooster crowed at a Muslim poultry slaughterhouse.
But inside the Bueno Galdos home, silence hung like a heavy curtain.
"I remember his smile," said Bueno Galdos' niece, Kayla.
She gazed at a photo of Bueno Galdos and his two older brothers that hung on the dining room wall. The three brothers are sitting on a sofa. The photo was taken on the day they arrived in America 18 years ago.
On the dining room table sat a framed photo of Bueno Galdos in his U.S. Army uniform. An American flag hangs in the photo's background. Tucked into the frame is a card depicting the crucifixion of Jesus Christ.
Buenos Galdos' 28-year-old brother, Carlos Eduardo Bueno Galdos, stood in the doorway to the kitchen and stared at the photo and the holy card.
"If he had five minutes to call, he would call the house from Iraq," Carlos Eduardo said. "He was always asking about the family. He was very close to the family."
So why would he be at the counseling center?
Like his father in the living room, Carlos Eduardo fell silent.
"The only thing that comes to my mind is that he was helping another soldier," he said.
It turns out that Sergeant Bueno Galdos died with another soldier from his same unit -- 19-year-old Pfc. Michael Edward Yates of Federalsburg, Md.
Was Yates having trouble? And was Sergeant Bueno Galdos escorting him to the counseling center?
Those questions await answers from Army investigators.
Yates' mother told The Associated Press on Wednesday that her son had mentioned to her in a Mother's Day phone call that the alleged killer, 44-year-old Sgt. John Russell, who is now in an Army jail, was deeply angry at the military.
But what does that really mean? And what makes a soldier angry enough to kill his comrades?
Bueno Galdos' family said that he never mentioned having trouble with any other soldier - or even with the military way of life.
"He always wanted to join the army," said brother Carlos Eduardo. "He was happy."
Elsewhere in New Jersey, the deaths at the Baghdad counseling center served as a reminder of the pressures on soldiers in a war zone, along with their families back home.
"Violence among soldiers is rare," said Chuck Arnold, a Marine Vietnam veteran who went on to serve 32 years in the New Jersey National Guard and now runs a phone hot line for soldiers and their families at the University of Medicine and Dentistry of New Jersey in Piscataway. "But it's not impossible."
At the Teaneck Armory, Sgt. Minnie Hiller, an Iraq veteran and Passaic school guidance counselor who supervises a New Jersey National Guard family assistance center, said the killings are a wake-up call.
"You're never the same after war," Hiller said. "There is enough stress already with the economy and with jobs. Then add to that a war. It's an extremely stressful time and we just don't have the luxury anymore of saying get over it."
State military officials have already assembled an extensive program of counseling for the 2,800 New Jersey National Guard soldiers who are expected to return from Iraq in early June. That program will include 100 counselors from UMDNJ at Fort Dix when the soldiers return as well as follow up meetings for three months.
"We're looking for warning signs," said Hiller.
But for the Bueno Galdos family of Paterson, there are no warning signs -- only unanswered questions.
"I have no idea why Christian was at the counseling center," said Bueno Galdos' father, Carlos Julio.
He paused again.
"We would like to know."
Foxtrot Company Completes Its Mission
June 6, 2009
'Everyone Back' After Year in Iraq
Foxtrot Company, the New Jersey National Guard unit which has been the subject of a yearlong series of articles in The Record, returned to its armory in Teaneck on Friday night, 345 days after it departed for Iraq.
As about 60 relatives and friends huddled in a soft rain, Foxtrot's soldiers arrived at the cavernous brick armory at 7:19 p.m. aboard two chartered buses, followed by a truck carrying soldiers' belongings.
Foxtrot's 117 soldiers, who range from young mothers to grandparents, returned from Iraq on May 29. But the unit spent the last week at Fort Dix in a series of debriefing seminars to help ease soldiers' return to civilian life.
In Iraq, Foxtrot was assigned to guard prisoners at the Camp Bucca detention center, near the Kuwait border.
"We did what we wanted to do." said Foxtrot's 1st Sgt. Scott Card of West Milford, as soldiers lined up in a final formation inside the armory. "We brought everyone back."
Foxtrot's commander, Capt. James Egan of Glen Rock, paid special tribute to the soldiers' relatives and friends -- as the soldiers clapped.
"Thank you for taking care of things on the home front," Egan said, before dismissing the soldiers with one last command: "Foxtrot, Mission complete. Fall out."
For Soldiers, Home's a Whole New World
June 7, 2008
Economy May Add to Strain of Adjustment
No one was killed or wounded. No one even had to dodge enemy bullets or fire a gun.
Nevertheless, the return of Teaneck's Foxtrot Company from Iraq is no easy transition to a homeland weighed down by joblessness, home foreclosures and business failures.
At least half of the National Guard unit's 117 soldiers may be looking for jobs or weighing whether to return to college, said their commander, Capt. James Egan of Glen Rock.
Other soldiers say they simply need time to rest, reacquaint themselves with spouses and children, and recalibrate their schedules as they turn their emotional time clocks back to civilian life.
"I'm going to take it one day at a time," said Sgt. Carmen Hernandez, a nurse and grandmother, who went to Iraq with her son, Sgt. Felipe Diaz.
"I just want to enjoy the summer," said Diaz, a Paterson police officer, who is now dating another Foxtrot sergeant, Marlene Martinez of Ridgefield, who had to leave a 6-month-old infant from a previous relationship when she went to Iraq.
Said Martinez, whose mother cared for her son: "I have to get used to my little boy again."
Such sentiments were common among the soldiers of Foxtrot, a supply unit that represents a wide cross-section of New Jersey, from bus drivers and salesmen, to young mothers like Martinez and grandmothers like Hernandez.
Many yearn to trade their camouflage uniforms for a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt. Others say they just want to sleep in a soft bed. Still others say they have come to value such subtleties of New Jersey life as the smell of fresh-cut grass and wide choice of takeout Chinese food.
"I want to go to my son's graduation," said Sgt. Brenda Alston of Paterson, who also happens to be a grandmother and a worker at the Kraft factory in Fair Lawn.
"We brought home 117 people who all had 10 fingers and 10 toes," said Foxtrot's 1st Sgt. Scott Card of West Milford. "They came home the way they left. In the end, that's all that matters."
And yet, the harsh homeland reality of finding or keeping jobs and paying bills also looms large.
"I probably have to get back to work fairly soon," said Egan, a salesman with the surgical equipment firm Covidien. "The good news is that I'll be in charge of one person -- and that's me. I'm really looking forward to that."
But Egan said he will nevertheless miss his soldiers, and the way Foxtrot grew from a supply company to a hardened military police unit.
"They're a family," Egan said. "And there is a lot of heart in them."
Foxtrot Company left its home at the Teaneck Armory last June for two months of training in the New Mexico desert. In September, the unit flew to Iraq with about 2,800 other New Jersey National Guard soldiers -- the largest overseas deployment of the state's citizen soldiers since World War II.
Foxtrot, which was assigned to the Camp Bucca detention camp in southern Iraq, flew by chartered jetliner to New Jersey on May 29. But as part of the military's new program to help soldiers transition back to civilian life, Foxtrot stayed at Fort Dix last week for seminars on topics that included job hunting and coping with the emotional swirl of leaving a war zone.
The unit will have most of the summer off before resuming regular National Guard training.
Standing in the rain Friday evening in Teaneck and holding a "welcome home" sign, Halina Mroz of Kearny waited for her son, Spec. Matthew Mroz.
"I'm glad they're back safe and healthy," she said.
Brenda Bishop of West Milford, who is engaged to Card, said she is looking forward to planning a wedding.
"Finally we can set a date," she said.
"I couldn't believe he was home. I still can't," said Adriana Roldan of Cliffside Park, whose husband, John, is a Foxtrot soldier.
Even though Foxtrot never had to fire its weapons at the enemy, several soldiers were injured.
One returned home last fall after he was burned while repairing a truck. Two others, who returned Friday with the unit, have to undergo regular medical checks because they were spit at by Iraq prisoners they were guarding at Camp Bucca. Because the spit hit the soldiers' eyes, military doctors will monitor them for HIV, tuberculosis, hepatitis and other viruses that are sometimes carried by Iraqi prisoners -- and could be passed on by spitting.
"I'm clear so far of any problems, but I need to be checked," said Spec. Richard Machado, 23, of Dumont.
Machado had been a full-time technician for the National Guard before he was deployed. Now that he's back in New Jersey, he says he would like to become a police officer.
Machado's experience underscores the persistent danger and tension the soldiers endured at the sprawling detention facility that held 18,000 Iraqi insurgents when they arrived and had about 5,000 when the Foxtrot was transferred home.
Before leaving for Iraq, Foxtrot learned how to control prison riots and even defend the detention facility against an armed attack. In Iraq, though, Foxtrot's most persistent enemy was boredom.
And even though the unit distinguished itself enough to be selected in its final months to guard some of Camp Bucca's most dangerous prisoners, Foxtrot did not have to suppress any riots or outside attacks. Egan said Foxtrot had to use pepper spray only a "couple of times" on unruly prisoners and never had to equip itself with protective shields, shotguns or batons.
For Egan, who turned 30 in Iraq, this was his second deployment to the war zone. He was first dispatched to Iraq in 2004 as a newly minted lieutenant with the Army's 1st Cavalry Division and in the throes of combat almost every day as fighting swirled through Baghdad.
This time, in a remote prison camp in the southern Iraq desert and in charge of 117 diverse soldiers, Egan said he found himself far more exhausted. He rarely slept more than a few hours in the first months as he tried to monitor soldiers on different shifts. Egan's weight also plummeted -- from 210 to 175. Only in recent months have his sleep patterns stabilized and his weight climbed back to 190 pounds.
Two soldiers had to be sent home because they were pregnant, Egan said. Another soldier's mother died. And yet another soldier, who was allowed home to watch the birth of his daughter, became deeply worried after he returned to Iraq and learned that his little girl had developed complications and was hospitalized.
Luckily, the baby turned out to be fine. But for Egan, the emotional weight of worrying about a prison camp and the myriad family issues back home was wearing.
His concern for the troops even continued as Foxtrot arrived Friday at the Teaneck Armory. After praising the troops for their mission in Iraq, Egan urged them to temper their celebrations upon being dismissed and returning to their families.
"Be safe," Egan said. "We made it home safe. Don't leave here by drinking and driving."
Egan's most daunting problem, however, occurred as Foxtrot prepared to leave for New Jersey.
Egan learned that a valued sergeant, who was assigned to Foxtrot from the Connecticut National Guard, had lied about having specialized training as an Army Ranger and paratrooper and prior combat experience in Iraq and Afghanistan. Egan confronted the sergeant, then faced yet another concern -- the sergeant described other troubles in his life and talked about killing himself.
Only days before in Baghdad, another emotionally distraught soldier had opened fire at a military mental health clinic, killing five soldiers, including one from Paterson.
Fearing a similar incident could occur with his own unit, Egan ordered that his sergeant be stripped of his weapons and placed in the hands of Army mental health specialists.
"That situation in Baghdad was sitting in my head," Egan said. "I was definitely concerned."
Egan said the sergeant is now being treated at the Army's Walter Reed Medical Center in Washington, D.C.
"I was deeply disappointed that this happened," Egan said. "But I'm glad the Army was able to take care of the situation."
For other Foxtrot soldiers, the concerns of returning from war are hardly as weighty. Nonetheless, they are hardly inconsequential.
Sgt. Houdine Moore of Newark, an amateur heavyweight boxer, hopes to reclaim the Golden Gloves title he could not defend because he was sent to Iraq.
"I'm waiting to get a little fight," said Moore, who is 6 foot 3 and 235 pounds.
Meanwhile, in Englewood, Spec. David Morera hopes to reclaim some customers at the barber shop where he worked.
Morera, who specializes in precise haircuts for men, even brought his electronic razors to Iraq, hoping to practice on Foxtrot's soldiers. But he found the electrical currents in Iraq were burning out his equipment. So he sent everything home.
"My barber chair is still there," said Morera, who cuts hair at The Shop in Englewood. "But I have to get my skills back on track."
***
(SIDEBAR)
Welcome back, Foxtrot
At the end of last June, 2,800 members of the Army National Guard left New Jersey, first for a summer of training in the New Mexico desert, then to deploy to Iraq. Here's a look at some of the ways America and New Jersey have changed during their time away from home.
The U.S. unemployment rate:
May 2009: 9.4 percent
April 2008: 5.2 percent
The federal government debt:
June 1, 2009: $11.4 trillion
June 1, 2008: $9.3 trillion
The changing face of two wars:
Americans killed in the first five months of 2009
Iraq: 86
Afghanistan: 61
American dead in the first five months of 2008
Iraq: 179
Afghanistan: 38
Who's in charge:
2009
House: Democrats
Senate: Democrats
Presidency: Democrats
2008
House: Democrats
Senate: Democrats
Presidency: Republicans
Gas prices:
2009: $2.40
2008: $3.85
Public-sector shame:
29 additional public servants were convicted on federal corruption charges in the past year in New Jersey, including two state senators and an array of municipal, school and law-enforcement officials.
Two new hometown ballparks:
Number of home runs, through June 1:
Yankee Stadium
2009: 87
2008: 54
Shea Stadium/Citi Field
2009: 38
2008: 51
-- Tim Nostrand, John Brennan, Peter Sampson
Welcome for Son Is Healing for Father
June 15, 2009
Vietnam Reaction Shapes Iraq Return
They are father and son.
They are also war veterans.
But Tom Egan of Glen Rock, a veteran of the Vietnam War four decades ago, had a fatherly wish when his son, James, returned from Iraq recently with the New Jersey National Guard.
Tom wanted to make sure James had a decent welcome-home parade -- the kind of parade Tom never had when he came home from Vietnam.
On Friday, Tom got his wish.
He journeyed to Trenton to watch James, the commander of the Teaneck-based Foxtrot Company, march with fellow Guard soldiers returned from Iraq in a parade as Governor Corzine and thousands of spectators cheered and clapped.
"Beautiful," said Tom.
"I have to say it's really nice to have my father here," said James, whose 120 soldiers were assigned to guard Iraqi prisoners in the sprawling Camp Bucca detention center in southern Iraq.
The story behind the father's wish is really a story that stretches across time and a piece of America's emotional soul. It's also a story of a terrible truth -- namely, that the men and women who were sent to Vietnam to fight an unpopular war in the 1960s and early 1970s were not welcomed back to America with cheers and parades.
Tom Egan remembers anti-war protesters spitting as he and fellow soldiers walked through the Oakland, Calif., airport terminal
after arriving on a jetliner from Vietnam. Later, back in New Jersey, he remembers being asked on several occasions if he was a "baby killer."
"It was really tough coming home," Tom said. "People just had no idea what we went through. It was almost like people back home were afraid to come near you because you were in uniform."
Egan, now 64 and a retired A & P grocery store manager, was a medic with the Army's First Cavalry Division. In Vietnam, he was assigned to a battlefield hospital that not only cared for wounded Americans but for Vietnamese who had been hurt too.
"I felt I was doing what I should do," Tom said. "In the hospital ward, we were even taking care of children. I even had a North Vietnamese officer that I took care of who had graduated from college in California. He spoke perfect English."
But no one recognized that kind of service when Tom came home to his hometown of North Bergen where his father, the superintendent of public schools, had died while he was in Vietnam. No one really asked Tom and other soldiers to tell those kinds of stories.
"We never got thanked," he said. "We never had a welcome-home party."
Only years later, after Vietnam veterans were invited to a belated welcome-home parade in New York in 1985, did Tom realize how the absence of appreciation or even the ability to speak about their war experiences without being angrily challenged had deeply wounded him and other Vietnam veterans. In that parade, Tom wore his Army Vietnam uniform shirt again. He met other veterans and exchanged stories.
He also heard cheers -- for the first time.
"I realized I needed that," he said.
Tom also realized today's Iraq veterans would need it too.
His son, James, had been to Iraq in 2004, as a lieutenant with Tom's former unit, the First Cavalry Division. But last year James, 30 and a salesman for a surgical equipment firm, was sent back to the war zone -- this time, as a captain in the New Jersey National Guard.
Some 2,900 citizen soldiers from the Garden State were assigned to Iraq last September, the largest overseas deployment of the Guard since World War II. Almost immediately, Guard officials back in New Jersey began thinking about how to welcome them home.
They were joined by dozens of graying veterans from Vietnam, including Tom Egan. A few weeks ago, Tom even came to a meeting at the Teaneck armory of families from his son's unit and urged them to come to the parade.
The support by Vietnam veterans like Tom Egan was not lost on high ranking Guard officers. Indeed, as the National Guard soldiers lined Trenton's State Street on Friday to await the kickoff of their parade, Maj. Gen. Glenn Rieth, the commander of all New Jersey Air and Army National Guard units, made a point of acknowledging Vietnam veterans.
"I want to say to all Vietnam veterans: Thank you for your service," Rieth said. "We will never forget you."
Standing several blocks away with the soldiers he commanded in Iraq, James Egan thought of his father and what a parade might have meant.
"He didn't have any type of welcome home at all," James said. "That was hurtful, and it didn't really give the Vietnam veterans a good closure coming home to such a harsh environment. He understands the importance of this. Whether the soldiers realize it or not now, it's nonetheless a final element, a welcome home, a closure that allows us to move on."
As James and other Iraq veterans marched through Trenton's humid streets on Friday, Tom waited across town, inside the Sovereign Bank sports arena.
James wore his camouflage uniform. Tom wore a baseball hat inscribed with "Vietnam Veteran" and a black First Calvary Division jacket emblazoned with the unit's iconic yellow and black patch.
As James waited to march into the arena, a Vietnam veteran noticed the name of "Egan" on his uniform and asked if he had any relatives who died in Vietnam.
James mentioned his father had served in Vietnam but survived -- and was inside the arena. The man then handed James a memorial wrist band inscribed with the name of Marine Corps Capt. James Egan of Mountainside, who has been missing in Vietnam since 1966.
Captain Egan of Mountainside is not related, but Captain Egan of Glen Rock placed the band on his wrist in what he called a tribute to Vietnam veterans. Then, he marched into the arena to triumphant music from "Star Wars" and other movies.
Tom Egan cheered and clapped as he heard his son's name announced. He shouted "Welcome Home" to soldiers and stood at attention and saluted for the singing of "The Star Spangled Banner."
"Very beautiful. Very emotional," Tom said. "This is unbelievable. This is part of the healing process, the beginning of it."