Homecoming

The team arrived home safely last night on Northwest Flight 405. We were met by our loved ones at the airport. Even UAF Chancellor Brian Rogers and his wife Sherry Modrow showed up to welcome us back, which was really nice of the two of them. Jenny rushed to catch a flight back to Anchorage - after all of our traveling, she still had one leg to go.

We caught up with our families as we waited for our checked bags. After we had all our things, we said goodbye to one another and stepped out into the darkening Fairbanks night. A temperate 50-degree Interior night never felt so cool before.

I can only hope that every soldier with the 1/25th Stryker Brigade Combat Team has an equally happy homecoming. And I hope that the new soldiers with the 3/2 SBCT coming into Warhorse now work to help the Iraqis of Diyala Province - it's going to take a lot of work by all involved to return the area to its former prosperity.

For those curious what will happen to this blog, there's still quite a bit of material to be posted here, so I expect we'll have new stuff for you for at least a week or so. We'll probably do a couple more pieces for Alaska Dispatch too, so don't tune out quite yet.

It was an amazing month, and I hope you all enjoyed our coverage. It was an honor to be able to bring some of Diyala back home for you.

-Tom Hewitt for the UAF Iraq embed team

Keeping the Peace

By Tom Hewitt, Photos by Jenny Canfield/UAF Journalism

COP COBRA, Iraq - On a sunny morning at Command Outpost Cobra, Lt. Col. Michael Kasales of the 1-25th Stryker Brigade Combat Team was mending fences.

“This kind of cooperation doesn’t exist anywhere else in Iraq,” he told the assembled Iraqi forces at a joint security meeting. “There can be peace and understanding, or it can turn into a fight.”

On the border between Iraq and the semi-autonomous Kurdistan region, Kasales and the troops of his 5-1 Cavalry Regiment have their work cut out for them, trying to massage egos and build relationships between Arabs and Kurds. It’s a daunting task even under the best of circumstances, and the soldiers are dealing with an active insurgency and infrastructure projects to boot.

As the meeting wore on, the magnitude of friction between the authorities became apparent. The Iraqi army and police forces complained of poor communication between the security agencies – American, Iraqi, and Kurdish – in the region, and a lack of trust between forces was a major bone of contention. Still, Kasales urged the meeting’s attendees to continue working together, telling them, “The example you are providing here is coexistence and peace for the future of Iraq.”

Kasales has worked hard to ease tensions in his squadron’s area of operations, pushing Iraqi authorities to set up joint checkpoints and operations with the Kurdish pesh merga militia forces. The pesh merga have been successful at maintaining order and security in Kurdistan, and both the Iraqi and American governments believe that cooperation between Kurdish and Iraqi forces is key to keeping the peace, especially in the volatile disputed zone that runs diagonally through northeast Diyala Province – the 5-1 Cavalry’s backyard.

Efforts to foster cooperation between Kurds and Iraqis in security operations have been successful, but it’s still a rocky road. At the morning security meeting, Iraqi police and army representatives had arrived in force, but the pesh merga were nowhere to be seen. At the meeting’s end, word arrived that the Kurds had been hassled at the command outpost’s gate, and – feeling slighted – turned around, blowing off the meeting.

“It happens about once every three times we do this,” Kasales said after the meeting’s end. “Sometimes it’s where people are seated at the tables. Personally, I think it’s silly, and I let them have my seat if they’ll take it.”

An uncertain future

In the Kurd-dominated town of Khanaqin, Iraqi Police Col. Mahmoud was quick to suggest that Kurd-Arab tensions are overblown. “There is no difference between working with Arabs and working with Kurds. He is an Arab, and I am a Kurd,” he said, pointing to the officer at the next desk. “We work together. We trust each other.”

“He knows how we [Kurds] suffered under Saddam,” Mahmoud said of Kasales. “We will be sad to see him go.” Still, he expressed faith that the situation will not worsen when Kasales departs in September. “I do not know who will replace him,” Mahmoud said, “But I have faith in the Americans. If he is going to be like Kasales, then we will trust him and we will work with him.”

The American soldiers from COP Cobra were less hopeful. “The Kurds and Arabs play nice while we’re here,” one said outside the dining hall that evening as he smoked a cigarette, “But as soon as we’re gone, all bets are off. They’re going to go right back to fighting.”

Back at the base, Col. Kasales reflected on the meetings between the Iraqi security forces. “You get everybody together like that in one room, and they always complain and moan about something – there’s always something they’re unhappy about. But just getting them into that room, even if they’re complaining – at least they’re not out in the streets, shooting at each other.”

He acknowledged that the transition to a new American unit in the region will be delicate. “We’ve spent a lot of time establishing these relationships, and these partnerships. When the next guy comes in, we’ve got to make sure he’s up to speed.

“Because if you’re not careful, you’re right back at square one.”

New Posts At Alaska Dispatch

Balancing rockets and recreation

by Brian O'Donoghue

Once known as a "black-out" base, Forward Operating Base Warhorse now sports an outdoor basketball court illuminated by spotlights all night long.

More at Alaska Dispatch.

Good fences make good neighbors

by Tom Hewitt

It's easy to miss the most prominent architectural feature of Forward Operating Base Warhorse, even though it takes up far more space than any other object in the area.

More at Alaska Dispatch.

Maintenance

By Tom Hewitt/UAF Journalism

Last week, Sgt. Melvin Lamb of the 1-25^th Stryker Brigade walked into his classroom with an unenviable task: He had to teach a group of Iraqi Army soldiers, many of whom had never picked up a wrench, how to maintain and repair their vehicles. It wasn’t the responsibility that was onerous, it was the time frame.

He had to do it in 14 days.

“Trying to teach them everything in two weeks – yeah, that’s a crash course,” Lamb said, standing in the oversized container unit that serves as his mechanic’s school. “Some of them do have experience, but the bulk of what I get are drivers.”

With such a short time to teach the Iraqis, the American instructors have to focus on the high points – the vehicles’ major systems and sources of the most common problems. Although Lamb wishes he could teach a longer class, he knows it’s not realistic. “It would be better if they could embed with us for a year,” he said, “But their government can’t afford it.”

In fact, the Iraqi government has difficulty letting its soldiers attend the class at all, even in its two-week form. For the men who enroll, the class is treated like leave, and though there is air conditioning in the classroom, it’s hardly a vacation. Lamb and his fellow instructors teach HMMV maintenance, and though the Iraqi Army soldiers are eager, they often have a lot to learn.

“The main focus is trying to get them to use manuals,” Lamb said, adding that the Americans had their hands full translating the English-language HMMV manuals, already difficult for many U.S. soldiers to understand, into Arabic.

Despite their reluctance to crack books for answers, the Iraqi soldiers showed initiative in other areas. “They’re very intuitive,” Lamb said. “When something goes wrong, they’ll look all over for obvious problems.”

Without at least some instruction, however, the Iraqis’ eagerness can go to waste. “The first day of class, something was wrong with the HMMV, and it wouldn’t start,” Lamb said. “It took them two hours to figure out that it was in drive.”

Outside the classroom, Lamb’s Iraqi Army pupils sat at a picnic table, chatting and wearing refitted U.S. Army uniforms from previous conflicts. Kosovo, Somalia, Desert Storm, and even Vietnam were represented.

The HMMV maintenance class was valuable, they said, and they had learned a great deal. They expressed some frustration with having to use the manuals, but said they trusted Lamb and took him at his word that doing things by the book was worth their while. They had been working on the vehicles all morning, but as the heat of the day approached, they were taking a break before going inside for the four-hour classroom portion of the day’s lesson.

The short time frame made the class seem more like triage than a full-fledged maintenance program, but Lamb remained optimistic. “99 percent of the guys that go through this class are greatly improved by the end.”

As the Iraqi Army soldiers filed into the classroom to resume their studies, Lamb made light of his task. “This is actually a lot less intricate than regular car repair,” he said. “You know how you’ve got about 50 or 60 sensors in your car at home? Well, these HMMVs have four.”

132.8 Degrees Fahrenheit

Today was the hottest Forward Operating Base Warhorse has experienced this year. The thermometer at the Public Affairs office, our base of operations, pegged the maximum temperature at 132.8 degrees Fahrenheit. Needless to say, nobody here - not even the soldiers - had experienced heat that severe before.

You may be wondering what it feels like to be outside at that temperature. The answer, as best I can approximate it, is that it feels as though you're inside a sauna that doesn't have any walls. The heat pushes its way into everything - your clothes, the water you're carrying, your body armor, the vehicles (which get too hot to touch without gloves)... everything. There's no escape.

It also really makes you understand why it's not a good idea to enter a sauna fully clothed, with body armor and a helmet to boot.

Still, there are ways to deal, and the funny thing is that it's not entirely unlike the way we deal with extreme cold in Alaska. Stay hydrated, dress appropriately, don't go outside unless you have to, and monitor your core temperature very closely. The soldiers of the 1-25th Stryker Brigade have learned these lessons well themselves - every vehicle going outside the wire has a cooler stocked with ice water and Gatorade for those riding inside.

When we get back to Alaska, it's going to be below freezing at night. It will take some getting used to for us, but even more so for the soldiers who, for the past year, have made FOB Warhorse their home.

Social Media Update

We've been adding content in the form of some pictures of the team on our Facebook page.

If you're on Facebook, check it out, and become a fan! We hang out there when we have a free moment, and try to answer questions if you have any.

If you're on Twitter, Jenny and I (and some others too!) have been posting under the tag #UAFiraq - it's searchable, so you can filter for just posts that contain that tag.

If you're social-media-challenged, we're working on a gallery outside of Facebook too. I'll keep you updated.

Living On The Iraqi Frontier

By Tom Hewitt/UAF Journalism
Photos by Jennifer Canfield/UAF Journalism

COP COBRA, Iraq - “Ah yes, Cobra,” Maj. Chris Hyde said, laughing nervously and sucking air through his teeth. “It’s nice up there, really nice. But – how shall I say it – very austere.”

Austere was the right word. A lone soldier from the 1st Cavalry, 5th Squadron showed up to greet the arriving Blackhawk helicopters at the landing pad, and as he showed us to our quarters, he made no effort to hide either the plainness of Command Outpost Cobra or his affection for it.

“Sure, we don’t have a big mess hall here, or some of the other stuff they have at [Forward Operating Bases] Warhorse or Caldwell,” he said. “But I like it. We get our missions done, and it’s a little more relaxed than down at Caldwell. For one thing, there’s no Sergeant Major Greene up here.”

Soldiers at COP Cobra tended to speak of Sgt. Maj. Charles Greene, the squadron’s chief non-commissioned officer, with a mixture of mild resentment and respect. While several cited his absence as a reason they enjoy their stay at Cobra, they affectionately retold stories about Greene’s temper and his fondness for Diet Pepsi.

The soldier who greeted our helicopters wasn’t kidding about Cobra not having a big mess hall. While the dining facility at Warhorse had an overwhelming array of menu options, at Cobra there was only one choice: take it or leave it. There were no soldiers choosing the latter. Thankfully, the meal of the evening – spaghetti and meatballs with green beans and a roll – proved delicious. A nearby table held an open case of Pop-Tarts, presumably an alternative on nights when the food was less popular.

The men and women staffing COP Cobra may enjoy a more relaxed atmosphere, but they can turn it on and off like a switch. On a mission in the nearby town of Khanaqin the next day, the soldiers’ eyes darted back and forth as they walked through the half-empty market, looking down side streets and up to rooftops for harbingers of a coming attack. While Khanaqin has been calm for some time, the soldiers were visibly relieved when they finished the walk and got back into their waiting Stryker vehicles.

COP Cobra’s facilities ran from modest to extremely modest. A makeshift barbershop was set up one night in the corner of the laundry room. Only one set of electric clippers was in evidence, and a garbage bag stood in for a barber’s apron. Still, those waiting for a haircut were in good spirits, and one – equipped with an acoustic guitar – even indulged a request to play “Free Bird,” which he played flawlessly.

The only amenities on the outpost universally derided by its soldiers were the latrines. Even the bathroom at the squadron’s headquarters, widely considered the best at Cobra, only had one Western-style toilet, with the others little more than holes in the floor. In one stall, a folding chair leaned up against the wall with the seat cut out, in an effort to provide some measure of normalcy.
Despite the austerity, those stationed at Cobra find ways to import touches of luxury. The evening after the mission to Khanaqin, the squadron’s chaplain had a cookout, complete with steaks. “They won’t be the best steaks you’ve ever had,” warned Pvt. Joel Adams as we walked over to the grill, “But it’s a steak in Iraq.”

By the time the steaks were finished, the night was pitch dark. The soldiers stood outside the dining hall, smoking cigarettes and talking about home. Almost all of the soldiers were less than a month from the end of their deployment, and they held forth on the places they would go, the music they would buy, and the beer they would drink as soon as they got back to Fairbanks.

“What a night,” said Spc. Joel Adams as the cookout wound down, looking up at the night sky. “Feels almost like home.” The stars rose over the outpost, and the Big Dipper shone brightly, comforting and yet somehow out of place above the desert.

The next evening, Adams and Sgt. Christian Ozuna sat with me in the mess hall at FOB Caldwell for dinner after a convoy ride from Cobra. The two shared good-natured gripes about their housing. “We were supposed to get new housing units,” Adams said. “They talked about it for weeks and weeks, and then they gave them to 3-66 [Cavalry Regiment]. Always the way.”

“We have a mouse in our quarters, actually,” Adams continued. I volunteered that I had seen the rat poison set out in the corner of Cobra’s dining facility.

“Yeah,” Ozuna said, smiling and looking into the distance, “Those steaks last night sure were tasty, weren’t they?”

Getting The Band Back Together

It's been over a week since the team has been in the same place - Brian and Jessica headed out to Forward Operations Base Grizzly last Saturday, then Tuesday they came back to Warhorse as Jennifer and I traveled to Command Outpost Cobra to the northeast. We thought we would have a little overlap time before Brian and Jessica went back north to FOB Normandy, but then Jennifer and I were waylaid en route, so we missed each other again.

In a few hours, though, Brian and Jessica should be returning from Normandy by convoy, and the gang will be whole once more.

I've really appreciated the trips outside of Warhorse - they've been the most valuable time I've spent here - but it's going to be nice to have a little time with the whole team. It's been a while.

The Ashraf Powder Keg

Generally, the situation in Iraq, and in Diyala Province, is peaceful.

The Iraqi Army and police forces, though derided by many as ineffective, are at least strong enough to maintain a general stability among the many groups jockeying for power here.

It's a fragile peace, however, and one feels that it's always just one incident away from being shattered. With that in mind, senior officers here at Warhorse and around Diyala are keeping a very close eye on the situation at Camp Ashraf.

More at Alaska Dispatch.

The Reese Memo

While it probably hasn't had as great an impact in the U.S. as it has here, a leaked memo from Col. Timothy Reese (Chief of the Baghdad Operations Command Advisory Team) has been the source of a lot of water cooler talk over here, from the top brass down to the average Joes in the dining facility.

Essentially, the memo says it's time to get out of here, as fast as possible, as U.S. forces have come past the point of diminishing returns in terms of what they can accomplish setting up a stable government and ensuring that it has a good shot at remaining stable. Reese strongly criticizes the Iraqi government and their security forces for what he sees as major failures at every level of organization. It's a blistering few pages, and surprisingly readable for a military memo.

In case you're wondering what the consensus is here about whether Reese is right, most soldiers I've talked to feel strongly that he is, although the more politically-minded among them concede that it probably wasn't the smartest thing for him to let slip to the whole world, given the increasingly strained relationship between the governments in Washington and Baghdad.

Alaska Dispatch Exclusives: Body Armor & The Base At Night

Editor's note: We have begun producing exclusive blog content for Alaska Dispatch. New material will continue to be produced both for this site and for the Dispatch; our exclusives for the Dispatch will be posted here as an abstract and link to the full article on their site.

The base at night
Jennifer Canfield

"I'd rather not get you killed," he said.

Sgt. Jeremy Pitcher was tasked with escorting me around base late last night. The night we arrived at Warhorse, I'd noticed how the buildings - unremarkable during the day - were fascinating at night. Under the moon the buildings took on a sparkling, ghost-like quality.
Full article at Alaska Dispatch


Getting body armor
Tom Hewitt

"After 15 minutes," said the Army National Guardsman we talked to in the Amsterdam airport, "you won't even remember you're wearing it."

If only he had been right.
Full article at Alaska Dispatch

The Look

Passing people on the street, the convoys always draw stares. It's easy to guess why - the vehicles are imposing, and there are often turret gunners rolling their .50-caliber barrel back and forth, looking for possible vectors of incoming fire. Since July 1, too, the American military has made a concerted effort to stay out of urban areas whenever possible, so the mine-resistant vehicles are more of a novelty than they used to be.

There's no mistaking the looks, though, and they run the gamut from idle curiosity to annoyance to suspicion and outright glaring. It's not too often that someone is happy to see the convoys. It does happen, though - while I was in a convoy on the way to a detainee release in Baqubah this morning, a naked boy waved and smiled from a roadside merchant's stand. The merchant, presumably his relative, eyed us less charitably.

Some people might think the Iraqis are being ungrateful for American efforts to rebuild the country and foster stability. The truth is, though, that if armored vehicles from some foreign power were rolling down the streets of Fairbanks, I doubt I would be all smiles either.

Recap: Our Trip So Far

Our posts lately have been pretty narrowly focused on particular situations we've encountered in our travels, so I thought I'd briefly recount what we've been up to since we arrived in the Middle East.

We arrived in Kuwait early Saturday morning, and were taken to a transfer base for processing and to arrange a flight into Iraq. Our processing there took almost exactly 24 hours, whence we got aboard a C-17 and flew to Baghdad. We were met there by a public affairs officer from the 1-25^th Strykers. He helped us obtain our press credentials and secure transport to Forward Operating Base Warhorse in Diyala province.

While on our way to get our credentials at the Combined Press Information Center in the Green Zone, our convoy came within a few minutes of being hit by an IED, which made the situation getting into the Green Zone a bit tricky due to fears of another attack. We eventually made it into the CPIC, however, and got credentialed. Late Sunday night we flew out of Baghdad by Blackhawk helicopter - an awesome experience - and landed at FOB Warhorse.

Since Monday morning, we’ve been getting our feet back under us, and we're getting to work on our real mission: getting some stories produced. I'll keep you updated.

-Tom Hewitt

Wake-Up Call

When we arrived at the transfer base in Kuwait, one of the first things I noticed was the casual atmosphere. Soldiers in logo t-shirts played pickup basketball at two o'clock in the morning, and the recreation tent was full of troops both in and out of uniform, playing games on Nintendo Wiis or watching Fast & Furious on a projector.

The military realities of life on base were still prevalent; checkpoints were extremely tightly controlled and there were forms to fill out and command hierarchies to navigate at every turn. Also, the relaxed nature of some of the soldiers could be explained away by the fact that many of them were on their way out of the war, either for a few weeks of leave or for good. Still, you could almost forget that there was a war going on, and how close by the base was to the "front," if the notion of "fronts" still applies in modern warfare.

When we boarded the "Daytime Rhino" in Baghdad yesterday, the difference in tone from Kuwait was unmistakable. The "Rhino" is a short convoy of heavily armored vehicles known as MRAPs (short for Mine Resistant Ambush Protected Vehicle) that travel between Baghdad International Airport and the Green Zone, through some of the most attack-prone territory in the city. The woman manning the turret was friendly but extremely firm as she explained what to do if our vehicle was attacked.

As we rumbled down the streets of Baghdad, no attack seemed forthcoming, and it seemed again like the war was a concept that existed someplace far away. Despite all of the security, I began to wonder exactly how dangerous the situation really was.

Just outside the entrance to the Green Zone, the convoy rolled to a halt. No one seemed to understand what was going on, and apprehension filled the air inside the vehicle. The turret gunner swiveled back and forth, anticipating a possible attack from an uncertain direction.

After a few minutes, the gunner knelt down and passed on what she had heard over the radio: An IED had exploded on our route minutes before we arrived, and the Iraqi Army was locking down the Green Zone. No word had yet been given on potential casualties. We were turning around and heading back to the airport immediately, presumably to avoid being sitting ducks for a second attack.

The realization that we were minutes away from having triggered an IED triggered a reaction that came like a flood:

This is a war, and while as embeds we might sometimes be divorced from the immediate realities of the fighting, our lives are in the hands of the people whose job it is to never get complacent, to never forget where they are and what the consequences are if they let their guard down.

I hope they do a better job remembering that than I did.

-Tom Hewitt

Counterpoint: On The Worth Of Technology In Reporting

Brian’s Luddite Manifesto earlier prompted a defensive reflex in me, so I’ve decided to offer a counterpoint.

I could pick Brian’s assertions apart piece-by-piece, or hold forth on the questionable wisdom of attacking the very same technology that allows you to post your content directly to anywhere in the world wirelessly from the floor of the Minneapolis airport, but I won’t. What I’ll do instead is tell a little story.

As we prepared to leave the airport in Amsterdam, a series of bizarre delays left us stuck on the tarmac for over two hours. Brian, looking worried, passed me an email (printed out, naturally – the man doesn’t use a computer unless he has to) from the military liaison who was scheduled to meet us upon our arrival in Kuwait.

My first thought was to contact her via email, but only secure wireless networks were available. I noticed, however, that the liaison had attached her international cell phone number, so I paused the music on my iPhone and selected a local cell provider’s network. Two text messages later, the liaison had all the information she needed. I turned the phone to airplane mode again and went back to listening to music.

Try doing that from inside a plane with a reporter’s notepad or a Selectric typewriter, and let me know how it works for you.

-Tom Hewitt

Suppressing The Urge

All you Facebook friends out there, Twitter devotees and the like, forgive Jessica, Tom and Jennifer for their relative silence during a passage that actually warranted status updates. Look for them to fill in the blanks as soon as they power up.

We crossed the globe, passed security checks on three continents and bunked in military tents as a rosy desert dawn lit this gateway camp outside Kuwait City. The name goes unmentioned in accordance with military rules governing our embedding.

All the way the professor squashed student passions for updating their every move. Call me paranoid, but it struck me that our group, being unusual in its Alaska student involvement, invited problems from those looking for ways to embarrass the U.S.

Or worse.

My nerves began fraying when a recent article by the Chronicle of Higher Education unleashed a wave of national publicity about our embedding project. I really worried after our commercial media partners announced our departure Thursday, ignoring or perhaps misinterpreting my request to fudge on the travel dates. “Leaving this weekend,” would have covered our tracks nicely. The reporter is a friend. I was likely unclear. And I’ll never fault journalists for printing the truth.

Jessica’s dad gets ultimate credit for Friday’s sleepless night en route from Europe. It was his suggestion I prepare for this venture by watching the movie “Taken.” I kept putting it off this summer. It seemed fortuitous when I came across the flick on the list of free videos offered on our final-leg KLM flight.

The plot certainly resonated: A beautiful young woman flies off to Paris-- over her doting daddy’s objections—gets kidnapped, virtually from the airport, and soon lands in white slavery.

Stand down, retired Master Sgt. Hoffman, the entire base has her back now.

By the time we huddled in Kuwait City’s airport lobby, every stranger seemed a threat and I summoned the A-Team in the form of Mass Communication Specialist 1^st Class Kelli Roesch, a Navy reservist, and her cohorts from the camp’s Media Transit unit.

We’re being issued flak jackets at noon.

None too soon.

--Brian O’D

Whirlwind

It seemed impossible yesterday that today would be busier, but somehow it happened.

In the morning and early afternoon we continued our media saturation, as we were interviewed by Rich Mauer from the Anchorage Daily News, Amanda Bohman from the Fairbanks Daily News-Miner, and the lovely Tazlena Cheap from Fairbanks CBS affiliate KXD (Channel 13). I understand that we'll be on at 6:00 and 11:00 p.m. tonight.

We're tying up loose ends right now - Brian is out getting power converters and we're packing up cameras, laptops, and other expensive electronic equipment. We're getting calls and texts every few minutes from friends who want to say goodbye and to stay safe. Thanks, guys... we'll do our best.

I just heard that the News-Miner's story is up now on their homepage. My parents' cabin made it into the lede somehow, and I'm loving the trademark FDNM flame war that's starting in the comments.

Don't tell anyone, but I think we're all going to be happy when we finally leave and get to find the stories rather than have them be about us. We're all more comfortable on the other side of the microphone or the notebook.

Final Preparations

I'm picking Jennifer up at the airport in a couple of hours, whence all the team members will be in the same place for the first time since our selection.

These last few days have been a whirlwind after a summer of anticipation. All of a sudden, our days are being consumed by equipment testing (and retesting, and re-retesting...), packing, frantic last minute email exchanges, and our old friend paperwork. We have a meeting with the university's legal department this afternoon - the last time we heard from them, they wanted to make us aware of the dangers of embedding, so they sent us a story about Wall Street Journal reporter Daniel Pearl's killing. Never mind that he wasn't in the same theater, nor was he even an embed. Oh well, I'm sure they do these things from a place of love. Either that or aversion to liability.

What little unoccupied time we have now is spent seeing friends for one last time before we leave, tying up loose ends on the home front, or quietly reflecting on what life will be like for the next month.

As for me, I have to squeeze in time to write up a will. I was floating the upper Chena River last week with my sister Rose, and she let me know in no uncertain terms that if I bite the big one over there, she wants my canoe.

Two Spaces

The Army’s media embed application gets right to the point: “In the unlikely event of an emergency, death or declared missing, please list next of kin or other person(s) you would like for us to contact on your behalf for notification.”

At some level, all of us know we’re going to die someday. We do a pretty good job of not letting that knowledge dictate the way we live, and for the most part it’s an easy thought to keep out of the front of our minds.

There are times, though, when you’re forced to confront the reality – I’m going to do something that might get me killed – head on. In ordinary life, these moments usually come after the decision has already been made, on a black-diamond-rated ski slope or a moose you didn’t see crossing the road until it was too late. When going into a war zone, on the other hand, you have the unlooked-for opportunity of savoring the prospect of your death, with a dozen questions on forms you fill out asking about your blood type and your helmet size.

The embed application had two spaces for names of people to contact in case of my death. I assume the second is there in case the first person doesn’t pick up the phone. In the first space, I put my mother. No surprises there. As for the second space, I think I’ll keep that to myself for right now.

Who knows, maybe it’s you.

The Basics: What's Going On

Unless you know one of us personally, it’s likely that you’re a bit in the dark about the fundamentals of our expedition. Here’s what you need to know to understand what’s going on:

• We are three journalism students from the University of Alaska Fairbanks. Our names are Jennifer Canfield, Tom Hewitt, and Jessica Hoffman. We will travel to Iraq with our professor, Brian O’Donoghue.
  
  
• We will be in Iraq for a month and will embed there with the Ft. Wainwright Stryker Brigade (1^stBrigade, 25^thInfantry Division).
  
  
• We will send reports back to print, radio, and television media outlets in Alaska. In addition to those dispatches, we will regularly update this blog with news on our experience.

There are a lot of finer details, but those are the broad strokes, and they should be enough to get you by. Please understand that the reason we aren’t always forthcoming with exact dates, locations, and other specifics is that the military, the university, and our families are all concerned with our safety and the safety of those around us during our time overseas. Loose lips sink ships, and all that.

What we don't have to be skittish about (and neither do you) is sharing this blog with others who might be interested. The blog is super easy to update (I can actually do it from my phone via text message!), and it will be our most reliable communication link while we're abroad. We're excited about this, and we want as many people on board as possible. Tell your friends!