Bats In Flight I
Most evenings around the time of sunset, I am now usually walking to or from our chow hall. It is the better of a ten minute walk complete with dust, rocks, and various military vehicles noisily rolling by. The air is usually warm, dry and pleasant. A certain stillness envelopes all but it is broken by the activity of hundreds of bats flying every which way. I really love this meditative time watching the weird and wonderful activity of these creatures. I think about how scattered they seem, yet nature has given them a keen sense of location.
So many experiences lately, they seem to fly about me like bats. I get little time to really integrate it, but I do pray. I respond to what comes my way and then march on. I can only guess that it is even more difficult for the warriors from whom much is demanded. A steady stream of soldiers seeking counseling passes through my door. Some have issues for which I can only provide a listening ear. Others need some sort of intervention whether it is for an emergency leave, or a tough situation.
Like watching bats in flight, there are so many issues and going in many different directions. In most situations, I believe that most of my job is simply watching and acknowledging what is happening and not necessarily try to “fix things.” Yet, there come the moments where intervention is needed.
One incident where it was clear to me that I needed to intervene was an evening when a female SGT from our headquarters brought over a female specialist whom she found sitting on a stoop crying. Apparently she had run away from a SGT who had put her on extra duty and was now demanding after some “corrective training” (jumping jacks while wearing Kevlar vest) to fill sand bags. She balked, said “No,” walked off toward a darkened shipping container. Apparently, her SGT tried to pull her out. Touching is a big no-no.
I took the soldier over to the CSM (Command Sergeant Major) and had her tearfully recount the story. Although the CSM avoids getting into company business, he highly regards the chaplaincy, so he took time to listen. Eventually we ended up visiting a 1SG whose company filled with many young soldiers recently hit the ground. We got our message across and I was probably heavy handed when I told the 1SG that I already had several “odd” situations coming out of his company and that I was “going to keep an eye on them.” He took this as a threat and the next day I had a visit from the company commander. He made it clear that he wasn’t going to let some chaplain throw his weight around in his area. I made it clear that my concern was the welfare of soldiers (like himself) and that I was “eyes and ears of the BN commander.” A few days later while visiting the motor pool, I saw the young specialist. She told me she was put on a new team. I thought that was a good idea—a fresh start for her. After a couple more positive and neutral interactions with the commander and 1SG, we all settled into a more cordial relationship.
A couple nights later, one of our more mature companies dealt with some ugliness that reflects the baseness to which conflict can bring people. Our MP’s frequently most accompany the IP’s (Iraqi Police) when they are recovering bodies off the streets. In this case one of the dead bodies was booby trapped with an IED. The after math was some decontamination for the squad. It could have been much worse, because a vehicle nearby sustained some damage while the soldiers were unscathed. I was called to the medic station by the 1SG. The soldiers had yet to arrive when I got there. I waited outside the clinic with the Co. Commander, 1SG, and one other SGT. Quiet was all about so I took the opportunity to ask CPT A. how things were going in general. Soon three vehicles arrived and soldiers were ordered to drop their gear so it could be cleaned and to not mix what didn’t need cleaning with what did. I hung around in the clinic as two soldiers who took the brunt of the blast were being examined. Both seemed fine and I was amazed at how resilient many of these soldiers are. Sometimes it takes a little while for the effects of trauma to be revealed. But, in this case I think we were generally lucky.
I am now nominally responsible for the spiritual well-being of at least eleven companies of soldiers. So, I now have to travel to various FOBs in order to visit with some of these companies. One visit took me to the IZ (what often is referred to as the “Green Zone”). I met with a Field Artillery unit from Kansas that is serving as MP’s. Their 1SGT was a crusty sort. He actually had been in the Vietnam War. He was highly effective in maintaining order and safety in the unit. “Top” was amazed at the fact that the unit was put in housing where four soldiers shared a trailer with shower, internet, a refrigerator, and a telephone. The Co. Commander, Major G. was an educator and easy going. He took us through one of Saddam’s palaces and current site of the American Embassy. Being here amidst the State Department personnel, big brass, pool, alcohol and even an orchestra of woodwinds was a little disorienting. Add two huge sculptured metal heads of Saddam facing down in the back yard and it was surreal.
One of the highlights of my ministry among our soldiers in Iraq occurred unit members took me to their training site at the “Crossed Swords.” This was a military reviewing stage most famous for its huge Crossed Sword sculptures at each end of the field. Saddam was tapped here on many occasions including once on a white horse and another time prior to the war wearing a fedora and shooting a shotgun. At one end was the Iraqi memorial of the Unknown Soldier. After some training maneuvers, the 30+ soldiers were called together to have me address them. I invited them to stay for a worship service. We were joined by about a dozen Fijian security forces. I set up a communion table on top of a HMMWV (hummer). My homily was a reflection on the Beatitudes and how Saddam was once “King of the Hill” but now they are. I told the soldiers that given what the Beatitudes say, there is no evidence in this world that “Blessed are the peacemakers.” Jesus was not setting up a new civil code; he was blessing those who walk in faith despite the ugliness of the world. I reminded them that they have an awesome responsibility wherever they fall in the ranks. The Fijians sang a beautiful hymn for all of us. We even held hands in prayer as we dismissed.
Later the Co. Commander, Major G. took us to the top of the memorial. We were escorted by an Iraqi soldier. Under what can only be described as a huge metal clamshell, was the tomb of the Unknown Soldier. The raised coffin was visible through colored glass. From there we were led into the base of the structure. It was dark. We used our flashlights to seek out the empty glass sarcophagi that the Baathists had set aside for the expected dead.
So many experiences lately, they seem to fly about me like bats. I get little time to really integrate it, but I do pray. I respond to what comes my way and then march on. I can only guess that it is even more difficult for the warriors from whom much is demanded. A steady stream of soldiers seeking counseling passes through my door. Some have issues for which I can only provide a listening ear. Others need some sort of intervention whether it is for an emergency leave, or a tough situation.
Like watching bats in flight, there are so many issues and going in many different directions. In most situations, I believe that most of my job is simply watching and acknowledging what is happening and not necessarily try to “fix things.” Yet, there come the moments where intervention is needed.
One incident where it was clear to me that I needed to intervene was an evening when a female SGT from our headquarters brought over a female specialist whom she found sitting on a stoop crying. Apparently she had run away from a SGT who had put her on extra duty and was now demanding after some “corrective training” (jumping jacks while wearing Kevlar vest) to fill sand bags. She balked, said “No,” walked off toward a darkened shipping container. Apparently, her SGT tried to pull her out. Touching is a big no-no.
I took the soldier over to the CSM (Command Sergeant Major) and had her tearfully recount the story. Although the CSM avoids getting into company business, he highly regards the chaplaincy, so he took time to listen. Eventually we ended up visiting a 1SG whose company filled with many young soldiers recently hit the ground. We got our message across and I was probably heavy handed when I told the 1SG that I already had several “odd” situations coming out of his company and that I was “going to keep an eye on them.” He took this as a threat and the next day I had a visit from the company commander. He made it clear that he wasn’t going to let some chaplain throw his weight around in his area. I made it clear that my concern was the welfare of soldiers (like himself) and that I was “eyes and ears of the BN commander.” A few days later while visiting the motor pool, I saw the young specialist. She told me she was put on a new team. I thought that was a good idea—a fresh start for her. After a couple more positive and neutral interactions with the commander and 1SG, we all settled into a more cordial relationship.
A couple nights later, one of our more mature companies dealt with some ugliness that reflects the baseness to which conflict can bring people. Our MP’s frequently most accompany the IP’s (Iraqi Police) when they are recovering bodies off the streets. In this case one of the dead bodies was booby trapped with an IED. The after math was some decontamination for the squad. It could have been much worse, because a vehicle nearby sustained some damage while the soldiers were unscathed. I was called to the medic station by the 1SG. The soldiers had yet to arrive when I got there. I waited outside the clinic with the Co. Commander, 1SG, and one other SGT. Quiet was all about so I took the opportunity to ask CPT A. how things were going in general. Soon three vehicles arrived and soldiers were ordered to drop their gear so it could be cleaned and to not mix what didn’t need cleaning with what did. I hung around in the clinic as two soldiers who took the brunt of the blast were being examined. Both seemed fine and I was amazed at how resilient many of these soldiers are. Sometimes it takes a little while for the effects of trauma to be revealed. But, in this case I think we were generally lucky.
I am now nominally responsible for the spiritual well-being of at least eleven companies of soldiers. So, I now have to travel to various FOBs in order to visit with some of these companies. One visit took me to the IZ (what often is referred to as the “Green Zone”). I met with a Field Artillery unit from Kansas that is serving as MP’s. Their 1SGT was a crusty sort. He actually had been in the Vietnam War. He was highly effective in maintaining order and safety in the unit. “Top” was amazed at the fact that the unit was put in housing where four soldiers shared a trailer with shower, internet, a refrigerator, and a telephone. The Co. Commander, Major G. was an educator and easy going. He took us through one of Saddam’s palaces and current site of the American Embassy. Being here amidst the State Department personnel, big brass, pool, alcohol and even an orchestra of woodwinds was a little disorienting. Add two huge sculptured metal heads of Saddam facing down in the back yard and it was surreal.
One of the highlights of my ministry among our soldiers in Iraq occurred unit members took me to their training site at the “Crossed Swords.” This was a military reviewing stage most famous for its huge Crossed Sword sculptures at each end of the field. Saddam was tapped here on many occasions including once on a white horse and another time prior to the war wearing a fedora and shooting a shotgun. At one end was the Iraqi memorial of the Unknown Soldier. After some training maneuvers, the 30+ soldiers were called together to have me address them. I invited them to stay for a worship service. We were joined by about a dozen Fijian security forces. I set up a communion table on top of a HMMWV (hummer). My homily was a reflection on the Beatitudes and how Saddam was once “King of the Hill” but now they are. I told the soldiers that given what the Beatitudes say, there is no evidence in this world that “Blessed are the peacemakers.” Jesus was not setting up a new civil code; he was blessing those who walk in faith despite the ugliness of the world. I reminded them that they have an awesome responsibility wherever they fall in the ranks. The Fijians sang a beautiful hymn for all of us. We even held hands in prayer as we dismissed.
Later the Co. Commander, Major G. took us to the top of the memorial. We were escorted by an Iraqi soldier. Under what can only be described as a huge metal clamshell, was the tomb of the Unknown Soldier. The raised coffin was visible through colored glass. From there we were led into the base of the structure. It was dark. We used our flashlights to seek out the empty glass sarcophagi that the Baathists had set aside for the expected dead.
posted by Chaplain (CPT) Fokas at 12:02 PM
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