Parkhov

22 February 2011

Have you ever had a project you thought was so overwhelming you were just frozen and couldn’t even begin? That is how I feel. Our tempo has picked up a little the last week and it has been a great excuse to not write. I’ve also been busy pursuing “professional” growth. I mentioned previously I was attending Top 3 meetings which are held every other week. This past meeting I ran for Secretary and was elected.   I’m sure my EM friends are giggling as once again I’m taking meeting minutes.  I'm also completing Course 14 which is as fun as walking over hot coals. Course 14 is required for promotion and is a web based course that will take my entire time here to finish. I have scheduled a test every two weeks and when I have down time at work, I try and force myself to click through the presentation.  It takes about a week to complete each block and I use the second week to click back through it and take notes. Gone are the days of the instructor stamping his foot on the ground to indicate “you might want to remember this point.”  Kudos for making us actually think as the questions are not simple either. It requires you to know the material and not answer memorized facts.  And lastly, I volunteered to teach a block of instruction for the upcoming Combat Professional Development Course, my block is Enlisted Heritage and is taught twice.  I have been reviewing the previous material and making it my own and doing research on the history of Sather. That’s me in a nutshell for the past few weeks and all of that has given me a great excuse to not tackle writing about my palace tour.

I have struggled with how to describe the tour and how it affected me and yet remain unbiased. My blog is not to share my political beliefs or to go on long rants about political parties, but rather my experiences being in a deployed location. It is not always easy to separate the two as my beliefs/values color my experiences. After much ado, here it is…

Once again my day off was cold and wet. I was hoping for cold and dry and I would wear my PT shorts and jacket combo.  It was cold, misty, muddy and required pants. Given I only have two choices, cammie bottoms or PT pants, you think it would be an easy decision.  Since it was my day off and I hadn’t solved my foot pain yet, I really wanted/needed a break from my boots. That left me PT gear. I have worn my PT pants 4 times my entire time in the Air Force and all of those times have been while I was here. I HATE these pants. They are known worldwide throughout the Air Force as MC Hammer Pants. I kid you not. The person(s) who created these pants and those who sat on the uniform board and approved them will have their own circle in hell dedicated solely to them.

Their punishment will be to wear them for all eternity and to hear the swish swish non-stop.  The jacket is doable and does it job. The shorts are bad and bunch up in the crotch for both men and women. You get used to seeing grown adults pulling their shorts down or sticking out a leg and giving a wiggle to get them back in place. But those pants…  All three pieces are made out of a hard nylon material that swishes when your legs rub. It doesn’t matter how skinny the person is, everyone’s legs rub and swish. You can hear people walking outside from the swish. Its been said you should be careful if running in them, because you could start a fire with the friction of the swish.  I broke down and wore them and regretted it the whole time. I should have just worn my uniform. Our Commander happened to be on the tour also and he looked at me and made the comment “I see your wearing the MC Hammer pants. I never wear mine.”  The shame of it all.

Edwards, Keoni, Young and I met at the Chapel for the group tour and discovered Chief Wood and our current Commander Lt Col Gonzales were also going. Keoni and I rode the bus with the other random folks while Young and Edwards rode with Chief and Commander.

Our first stop was Camp Slayer. Camp Slayer was originally apart of the Abu Ghurayb Presidential Palace and where we stopped was some sort of military compound area.  We all emptied out of the bus and started snapping pictures.

This mural of Saddam is the last known mural to have survived. We walked around and took random pictures of the buildings. When we first invaded this area these buildings were used to house our soldiers. You can still see remnants of our stay and see the primitive conditions they lived under before our camps were built. We were a mob of sorts and went wherever we wanted. I felt sorry for the girl leading the tour as we were her first group and didn’t listen very well.

We entered one building which used to be an Iraqi chow hall and started walking around the bombed out building. I started to walk into one area and the smell of urine was so strong I started to gag and heave. It once had been a bathroom and I don’t know if the lingering smell was from us or them, but it was powerful.

On the perimeter wall you can see target outlines used for practice shooting. The only problem was the wall faced Flintstone Village and live ammo was not authorized for fear of hitting the kids.  I haven’t been told otherwise, but I suspect that is not the true reason. I could be off base and giving to much credit to their military, but why would you shoot up your own perimeter wall? You can see from the pictures there is no berm, and the silhouettes are rather amateur.  Maybe it really was just for “dry” fire. 

We loaded up and headed to Victory Over America.  After the Iran/Iraq War, Saddam felt it was a victory as he was still in power and built the palace, Victory Over Iran. After Desert Storm/Shield, he used the same logic and declared victory over the United States and to celebrate his fine achievement, he then built Victory Over America over the previous palace.  The guide used this as an example:  close your hand into a fist, now cover your hand with your other hand, like rock, paper, scissors. This is how the two palaces are connected.

The second palace phase was never completed and two cranes are still positioned outside. It seems we asked the French if they wanted them back as they were the ones doing the construction and they said yes if we shipped them at our cost. As you can see, we didn’t take them up on the offer. It's also rumored we bombed the palace not because it was a target, but the name pissed us off.

Our group was led inside and we walked throughout the palace. The size is indescribable. The ballroom is the size of a football field and that is only one of the many rooms. To think this was built on the backs of his people is truly disturbing.

 During the onset of the tour I happened to be eavesdropping on a conversation next to me. There was an older man giving local history of the palace and about Saddam that was not included by our guide. I started chatting with him and was fascinated. He gave accounts on how the Iraqi people lived under the dictatorship and the fear they were ruled with. As we walked from floor to floor and room to room, he would give such insight. I was captivated.

Outside of the palace there were smaller out buildings off of the man made lakes and you could see Flintstone Village. He had his mother-in-law quarters built next to the residence of his main mistress. What a keeper that Saddam. In the distance you can see the “Perfume Factory.” This was the designated brothel for the Baath Party members.

Saddam wanted to be a permanent part of history and every building has his name or initials built into the structure. The balcony rail of his mistress’ residence is made of hearts with his initials linking the hearts together. In different rooms though out the palace are his initials in the crown moldings.

We loaded back up and headed to the Baath Party House. Walking through there was touching history. Dan Rather had his interview with Saddam right before the war in that building, it was the first building to be hit at the beginning of the war, it was used for torture and contained a movie house.  I talked earlier about the pool room and I was able to observe it for myself. It was very sobering. Rumor is when we arrived on scene after the bombing the last victim was still handcuffed to the pool stairs. Fact is what you see next to the stairs is human DNA and was lab tested. The stain has been preserved through the dust sticking to the matter. See the picture tab for pictures, could be graphic for some.

Reports state when we hit the Baath House, we missed Saddam by 20 min. The remaining members were watching Pretty Woman and the film was still on the reel rolling. 

My private tour guide made the trip. The canned script is very informative, but to hear actual accounts is so more real. After this post I will include the script as it has items I didn’t cover and is interesting as well. Do you think I can remember my guide’s name? I repeated it several times with care so I would not lose it, but its gone. I know he is Armenian/Greek, is an interpreter for us, previously was an accountant and lives in Pasadena Ca, has been working for us for 7 years and on his last trip home went to Napa with his son, but his name escapes me. He left one clue for me to follow, he hosts combat fishing trips on Sunday.

Yep, two weeks later I went combat fishing for two reasons; something to do and to get his name. And his name is Parkhov. Now what the heck is combat fishing?

Edwards and I headed to the chapel to meet the fishing group and we learned we were an hour early. With my ID in hand (this will become important) we headed back to our CHUs to wait. Our LSA area requires a special Sather Badge to enter. I like to think I live in a gated community. We have our own fire station and the guards are private security contracted from Uganda and wear their own uniform.  

Edwards and I go back to the chapel and learn the group includes us and two other girls; an all girls fishing trip with Parkhov as the leader. We jump in the van and off we go. It turns out the two girls are from Command Post which makes for an interesting dynamic. We work with them extensively as they call us on every plane with a 20 min out call and then a follow up call when it has landed. CP has direct radio contact with the pilot and will give us our download and we in turn will advise of what we are uploading. We have been having some communication problems lately as they have just gone through a turnover. It was good to find this out at the beginning of the trip and not the end. It was also helpful to put a face to the voice. Young and I had been talking about going over and introducing ourselves to get that personal touch going. We normally are collocated with them and not separate as we are here.

Parkhov took us over by the al Faw Palace which is another Presidential Palace surround by man made lakes. Al Faw is just around the corner from VOA Palace and not very far. How many palaces did this guy need? We park across the street from a hotel that is currently being used for visiting dignitaries. All of us girls grab some gear and head out to one of the buildings surrounding the lake. Parkhov points out varies buildings and what they are currently used for as he sets up our poles. It seems Iraqi fish like Cliff Bars, bread with cream cheese and coco puffs.

Parkhov assembled my pole and set me up with two fine blobs of peanut butter Cliff Bar and sent me on my way.  I looked at him and the reel and he realized I was not in my element. He walked with me to the water and showed me how to flip the little bar hinge thing and hold the line with my fingers, give it a quick snap of the wrist and let go.  Simple right? He cast off for me and walked away leaving me holding the fishing pole. I felt a little tug and thought I had something. I quickly reeled in the line and found I had whatever is green and grows in lakes.  Time to cast off for myself; I go throw the steps, hold my breath and snap my wrist. My line went high and to the right, right into a tree. Parkhov came over, cut the line and I followed him back to the table where he handed me another pole. He was very gracious and said I didn’t walk on my first attempt and it takes practice. I walked away determined to practice. I cast a few times trying to get the hang of it and my line tangled. I untangled it and tried a few more times. I tangled again and at this point I'm enjoying being out and near the water more than the fishing itself. I turn my pole in and decide to take a look at the hotel.

I open the front door and enter the lobby. It still has its original furnishings and is a bit worn, but even if it were new, the style is rather hideous.  I would describe it as the Easter Bunny meets French Baroque.   I headed back to the group.

By this time the sun was setting and getting dark. It had been a chilly day, but now was getting cold. I had worn a long sleeved t-shirt, sweatshirt, PT jacket and of course shorts.  I was freezing. We hauled the gear back to the van and discussed dinner plans. We collectively had wanted to go to the Mediterranean Café, but Parkhov was fundamentally opposed to the idea because it was ran by Turks. He was willing to take us though, but out of courtesy we decided to go to the chow hall. To me all chow halls are the same, but this one since it was on Liberty was claimed to be better.  We all pile out with Edwards and myself at the rear. I reach in my pocket for my ID holder and I cant find it. I check both pockets and nothing. Edwards goes inside to find Parkhov and get the van keys. I'm hoping as I reached for my reflective belt in my pocket, my holder fell out. At this point, I'm a human popsicle and I'm sure it was minutes, but it seemed forever as I slowly froze to death. Edwards makes it back and we look through the van, nothing.  I tell her she should eat and Ill wait in the van, but she sits with me as we wait for the two girls and our fearless leader.

Forty five minutes later, they came back. Miss Bubbly did bring me a to-go container which I said thank you for, but did not want to eat. The only thing on my mind was finding my ID holder. My military holder had my ID, Sather Badge, Eagle Card, random pieces of paper allowing me to drive, take pictures on the flight line, etc.  From my perspective it was either gone forever or in my CHU.  If it was gone, there was nothing I could do other than pay the piper (aka get my ass chewed) and replace everything. All I wanted to do was go home and check. Parkhov wouldn’t listen to me and Miss Bubbly in the backseat wouldn’t stop with the questions. Where did you last have it? Did you have it here? Did you have it there? How about…?? How about you shut your face, if I knew the answers to any of those questions, I would know where it was.  I didn’t say that, but really really wanted to. Parkhov insisted we go back and retrace every step in the freezing cold with a flashlight.  It was my problem and I was getting upset about not being listened to and rather than be bitchy, I shut down and stopped talking. I went along for the ride and tried to keep quiet.

We back traced every step I took and no ID. We finally headed back to Sather and I was wondering the whole time how that was going to work. You have to show your ID to enter Sather since it has it's own perimeter and main gate. Parkhov had the same question, but he said he knew how we could get around it. Parkhov was very creative and snuck me and the rest of the girls on without showing ID. All I'm going to say is he held the wire as we crawled under.

Once on Sather, he sweet talked his way on to the LSA and I checked my room. There it was sitting on my nightstand. I went back to the others to let them know and we all were relieved. The other girls actually said I had kept calmer than they would have, if the situation were reversed.

By this time I was starving and the chow hall was closed. The to-go container was looking pretty good at this point and I ate cold corned beef and cabbage in my room and was happy about it. The next day as luck would have it, I called Command Post for something and Miss Bubbly answered the phone. I thanked her again for the to-go as it had saved me.

I walk away with three lessons learned:

#1 Don’t talk when you are angry

#2 If you ask someone if they need help with a lost item and they say no, listen and don’t ask a bunch of questions

#3 Be nice to people as you never know when you will see them again.

When it gets warmer I might go combat fishing again, but I think I will bring a book and just sit at the lake and read or keep Parkhov company. I don’t think I'm cut out for fishing.