The Children of Khalidyah

SPC Hargrave and I have been among the fortunate Unit Ministry Teams (UMT’s) who have been afforded opportunities to be part of some “high speed” training, missions outside the wire, solemn ceremonies and even humanitarian missions. Most UMT’s just don’t get to do all this “stuff,” so we feel valued and trusted by our command and just plain lucky.

When we first arrived at Camp TQ, there was a large amount of clean up to do. The outgoing unit had been on back to back deployments. They came straight from S. Korea to Iraq. I think that they just got tired and really didn’t spend a whole lot of effort in making the camp better. I’m not aware of the mission demands put on them either, so it’s not totally fair for me to judge. One thing that I have noticed is that National Guard units are composed of more mature individuals who have job experience back home. This probably plays into the fact that we were ready to make Camp Coalminer more livable by making layout, security, and building improvements.

Also, part of getting organized here including opening connexes (large shipping containers) and finding all sorts of items in them. Back in September the CSM came to me and said that he had found many trash bags full of stuffed animals. He suggested that I may want them for a future humanitarian mission. So we set to going through the dusty bags and checking the condition of the toys. Most were great; some needed to be tossed. We were left with dozens of every sort of stuffed toy, from a giant Bugs Bunny to a boat load of Beanie Babies.

During a post chaplains meeting in October I mentioned to the group that we had this inventory and were willing to share it with any units who were conducting humanitarian missions. Just as luck would have it, the Navy chaplain from Mortuary Affairs had made arrangements with a Marine unit that was planning a humanitarian mission to a local fishing village. (Yes, a fishing village in Iraq. We’re next to Lake Habaniyah.)

When the day came in November, we met up with Marine CPT Benitez and her men. CPT Benitez was a compact Hispanic woman who was just given command over FOB (forward operating base) security. She seemed eager to conduct a humanitarian mission. I guess it is one of those things that helps build a repertoire of leadership skills (interacting with local leaders, build communication skills, etc.) and makes soldiers feel good all the way around.
Getting to Khalidyah was simple. We simply drove our convoy out of a southern gate and drove downhill toward the lake. We then took a paved road that hugged the shoreline for about a five minute drive. The “village” was a gathering of brick houses with tin roofs, and a few other buildings on uneven and dusty ground. Poverty looks the same wherever you go. I remembered poor Greek villages I visited while I was growing up. I was reminded of impoverished Palestinian children when I visited Israel and the Gaza back in ’95. Barefoot kids dressed in a wide range of mostly donated clothing (One could tell by the American logos) began to show their faces.

One of the first was a young girl (possibly 3-4 y.o.) who came to check us out from about 20 yards away. Eventually, the Marines set up so that there would be some order to the distribution operation. The irony of putting up barbed wire to hold back the 30-40 so kids was not missed by me. (But there are wider security issues when a unit does this sort of thing.) The consideration, of course, is who else may be watching and if a suicide bomber might come within our perimeter.

While we were handing out toys, medics were visiting with some of the town folk and checking on their ailments. A Public Affairs Officer was talking with some local men over the front of a pick up truck that had some damage around a headlight. (Apparently, the US pays claims on any incidental damages. Occasionally, one will hear a story about a settlement of thousands of dollars paid on an accidental death and then the family wants to dicker over a couple hundred dollars for a refrigerator.) War brings out odd behaviors, relationships and dependencies. When it comes to giving and receiving, there are matters of pride. Who needs to look good? Who needs to save face? It can be delicate.

The children were sweet for the most part. Some tested their “good” words and taunts at us. Most kids preferred to pick their own toys rather than be handed one. Sometimes a little kid would get one only to have the bigger and older son of the mayor take it away from him. I think even some adults took toys from the kids. I joked that the toys would probably soon be found in a local flea market in exchange for cash.

I took a number of photographs, but spent most of my time giving out stuff and talking to the kids. I tried to always squat so I could be on their level and see their faces. In many cases there were so untouched—ignorant of their poverty, but happy and curious in the moment. I gave the camera to a Marine and asked him to take some photographs. Out of the nearly 80 pictures he took, my face made it in one and part of my side made it in another. Next time I will need to be specific. “Take pictures of ME giving out gifts.” Then I ask myself Why? Do I really need to show world that I am doing good?

After Christmas, I put out an announcement for a collection of more stuffed animals and toys that soldiers might be willing to donate…