Christmas Dinner in the Army - Road Trip to Iraq - March 2003.

Ain't this somethin'?  I remember a few Christmas' like these guys are experiencing and can tell you quite honestly they were the best ever.  The sun is setting and there's a warm fire.  You'll notice the two on the right are leaning up against a "HESCO," a prefabricated, multi-cellular system, made of Zinc coated steel welded mesh and lined with non-woven polypropylene geotextile - then we fill it with dirt or sand.  Simply said, modern day, above ground things that stop bullets and RPGs.  On the left you can see where their food came from - they got some hot "A's," (i.e., regular food in 'mermite' containers') that are sitting on the cot.   Mermite containers are like those boxes that keep pizza warm when it's delivered but do a little better job of it.  But it's Christmas - you're with your buds.  No screaming hot metal flying around in the air.  It's not home, it's not the best place you'll ever find yourself.  But it's good.  It sucks for sure, but it's all good.

 

Shared hardships breed a comaraderie that few civilians will ever understand.  It's not just the "getting shot at" thing.  It's not just shared dangers.  It's not about that dead animal in the road up ahead that may be hiding an explosive device inside or the overpass you're driving on could blow up with such force that it will throw a HUMVV into the air and crush everyone inside.

It is in many cases shared "suck."  It sucks because it sucks.  We're here in it so just enjoy the suck.  It will eventually get better with either time or the enemy deciding they are fighting a lost cause and run back to their hideouts (because they are afraid to fight) in the mountains or to the next country over.  Or better yet, finally give permission to the women of their land to join in the Jidahist movement and become homicide bombers.  What a great place huh? 

It sucked early on for those of us in the ACP (Assault Command Post) for the 101st Division Headquarters.  We were in Kuwait for a good while in anticipation of an invasion.  Not sure what was happening but we were sure there were some last minute negotiations going on in hopes that maybe it wouldn't have to happen.  We knew better though.  So here we were on Camp New Jersey and it is in the middle of the desert.  No roads, no trees, no people (except the U.S. Army).  (Picture of New Jersey is right).  We were living in tents lined up along a pathway and it was so windy and sandy that you had to use a flashlight just to go from one tent to another.  I walked in the first night and there in my assigned tent were alot of Brigade liaison guys obviously very miserable.  And they got there only the day before. 

I got a cot and put my stuff under it and went to the Command Post.  What a mess!  Computers everywhere in this big tent with holes in it all over the place.  You had to hang your web gear and flak vests in an entrance way where a guy checked your ID Card.  So much dust was blowing when I got there the first night that they were using paint brushes to clean off their laptops.  I got stuck in the back with the Special Forces Guys which turned out to be all right and also got my first introduction to Brigadier General Ben Freakley.  A soon to be hero of mine.  Never started work without having me say a prayer...He's a hard-core Methodist Christian and lived that way every day. 

But as I continue to digress and the ADHD prompts me further, it was fairly business as usual if you consider that using outside job-johnnies for a toilet - not that big of a deal you say?  Have you ever had to use one with your full 'battle-rattle' with you?  Battle-rattle?  Web gear, gas mask, helmet, flak vest, flashlight, etc.  Do you know how hard it is to get in there and take that stuff off just to sit down?  Then, when it's off, where do you put it?  The messhall was a good 3/4 of a mile away and you had to walk there.  No wasting fuel. (picture to the left).  And of course you do not get to take your battle-rattle off when you eat.  There was a large cooking tent there where everything was prepared by foreigners the Kuwaiti government brought in.  Lots of Pakistanis, Bangladesh people who if they got paid it was almost nothing.  Most of them volunteered to come over so they could make enough money for a dowery so they could get a wife.  So we're on our merry way when one night it got unusually windy.  Sand was really kicking up and we did our best to button down the sleep tent and ensure the stakes were in deep enough to keep it from blowing over.  We thought we had it beat so got in our cots in hopes of getting a modicum of sleep.  Not the case.  The wind was really kicking and about 0100 I felt something brushing up against my nose.  Odd feeling so I stuck my little head outside the sleeping bag and saw nothing but pitch black darkness.  I lifted my head a little to look around for everyone else and bumped into what seemed like a piece of wood.  Turns out it was the inside beam of the tent.  The wind was blowing so hard it yanked out a couple of the stakes and the thing was slowly pulling the tent down. 

I yelled to the guys and we high-tailed it outside (you always slept dressed), to see what we could do.  We did our best to pull up the beams and somehow strengthen the tent a little until we could fix it in daylight.  We got it secured but it was a pain - especially since the wind is still blowing.  Wonder how dark and how much sand there was?  Check out the lamp we lit in the picture to the right.  That was taken about 0200 INSIDE the tent - note the sand.  Great sleeping weather!  People wonder why my sinuses act up and I'm the occasional grump.   We had trouble embracing this "suck." 

Shame on the Army - URWs - Gold Star Mothers

It's not an easy thing to sit and listen to an 18 year old crying while telling a room full of Chaplains about the death of her father in a helicopter crash in Iraq.  Bre's mother was there too as well as Ms. Debbie who lost her son in Iraq.  What's worse is what is on Mrs. Priestner's military ID Card.  "URW."  What is that most ignominious acronym that only the Army could come up with?  Un Remarried WIDOW! 

CW4 John Priestner to the left in his Apache.

After all these years in the Army and after so many funerals, memorials, and graveside services it never dawned on me what these widows received.   Widows of Soldiers are entitled to only 55% of their spouse's income unless they either remarry under the age of 57 or die.  However, if their husband is Killed in Action, that retirement is reduced dollar for dollar from the death benefit payment DIC - (Dependency Indemnity Compensation).  Those whose spouses were KIA and not eligible for retirement receive an across the board payment of $1,067.00 per month (TAXABLE!) -UNLESS THEY REMARRY BEFORE AGE 57!  They then forfeit that money.

I am not sure where or how this nonsense perpetuated but I am sure it's Congress.  While we dole out largess to corporations and have the speaker of the house spend $3,000.00 on flower arrangements, the amount of money that would fix this problem would be considered "budget dust" in congress.  These women are being paid for losing their husbands but then being told they are no longer entitled to his retirement which he paid for through his years of service - SINCE HE WAS KILLED DEFENDING THE COUNTRY!

Now lets figure this one out.  What would you do if your husband was killed in action, you have two kids, and you're in your late 30s, early 40s?  Let's be honest, grief can be overcome with time.  There comes a time when a person needs companionship - let's say after 5 years of mourning.  But then of course you know you will lose your spouse's benefits if you remarry.  So your choices?  Live in 'sin,' until age 57 and forfeit the right of your children having any father figure their entire life.  Who's going to give her away at the wedding?  The 'boyfriend?'  Who's going to talk to his little girls about her boyfriends?  Teach her to drive?

We bring in these Gold Star Mothers and Surviving Spouses and their children to give new chaplains an idea of what they will run up against when having the sad duty of notifying a family member of the death of their loved one. While speaking privately with one of the ladies, I learned that she would lose the majority of her benefits should she re-marry before she is 57 years old.  It is obviously a very sensitive issue with them having lost a husband and some would wonder how they could ever think about remarrying.

Well, what if the widow/er is in their 30s/40s?  I think it is very calous to tell a widow that you can not have a relationship until you are 57. How many young people who lose spouses remarry? Additionally, how can we justify divorced spouses receiving 1/2 of a Soldiers retirement benefits since the pay is "property," and then allow them to remarry and not lose the right to that property?

I am especially aware of this since the child of one of the Surviving Spouses comes to this event with her mother (all the way from Fort Bragg, NC) and she always breaks us up during the presentation when talking about her father (Apache Pilot - killed in Iraq).

I do not think it is right that her mother loses her husbands pay if she remarrys.  I think a wait of maybe 5 years is more than enough time for a person to wait - how long do we expect them to mourn?

This is not the only widow I have spoken to that has this very concern - but the nature of the discussion makes it very difficult for them to talk about it without seeming to dishonor their fallen loved one. I thought it important to bring to your attention on their behalf.

Here's what Bre said in an article she wrote for the New York Times, "Upfront" Magazine.

Fallen Soldier, Missing Father

Three years ago, Bre Priestner's father was killed in Iraq.  Here's Bre's words:

"Almost three years ago, my father died in an Apache helicopter crash in Iraq, when I was 14 and my little sister, Megan, was 10. Our parents had been married for nearly 20 years, and we had everything we could ask for. But it all was shattered on Nov. 7, 2006, when we got the news.

I woke up early that morning and was planning to stay home from school because I didn't feel well. I was lying in bed listening to music when the doorbell rang.

Mom came down the stairs to my room. She looked distraught. I jumped out of bed and followed her upstairs. Megan hadn't left for school yet. When I saw the three Army officers standing in our living room, I froze. I started shaking my head and saying, "No, no."

They asked us to sit down, and then the words came: "I regret to inform you that your father, Chief Warrant Officer 4 John Priestner, was killed last night ..."

Dad served in Iraq in 1991, during the Persian Gulf War; in 2002, he spent nine months in Afghanistan. Although he came home safe both times, we were scared when he left for Iraq in July 2006.

But we all felt that Dad could do anything, and he said he would do whatever it took to bring his unit home alive. While he was in Iraq, we talked to him using Yahoo Messenger and e-mail, and he called almost every day.

The night Dad shipped out, he told us, "If anything happens to me, do not be mad at the Army or at God." That night he called us "Team Priestner." We used that saying when he was in Iraq and we still use it, to keep us going.

Talking to other children of the fallen through TAPS (Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors) has been a great experience for me. At Fort Bragg (near our home in North Carolina), we have support groups for all ages. Some kids don't want to talk about losing a parent; others want to know if things will get any easier, and that question is so hard. I'm just now getting things figured out, and it's been nearly three years.

I've been unfocused in everything and was diagnosed with depression. I'm getting better, but the best thing I did was talk to my mom and my counselor about how I felt.

The road we are all on isn't easy, and I don't know how anyone could think it would be. That's why it's hard when we hear a question like, "Why aren't you over it yet?"

The simple answer is that we've had a major part of our lives ripped from us. A song or anything can trigger a painful memory, and suddenly we get quiet or start crying.

Losing someone so important to you, especially when you're so young, can be devastating. Only one parent will be there for your proms, your graduations, your wedding, and to see grandchildren grow up.

But as military families, we are strong. Even though we're sometimes a little stubborn, we are survivors. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"If anything happens to me, don't be mad at the Army or at God."  That's a Soldier - and a Father!  CW4 Priestner's grave is in Arlington and you can see his family to the left on the annivesary of his death defending Your freedoms.