Detained: emails and musings from a spiritual journey through Abu Ghraib, Kandahar, and other garden spots

By Brian Rees

Over the course of five deployments to the Middle East since 9/11, Colonel (retired) Brian Rees documented his daily life at Abu Ghraib, Bagram, Kandahar, Camp Bucca and elsewhere, by writing emails to his friends and family:

...they fired their warning shots, disabling (engine block) shots, then lit up the vehicle with their .50 cal. killed two or three and wounded a half dozen more. the .50 cal produces horrendous wounds, not bullet holes, but big chunks just gone, no buttock, no shoulder, just erased. if it hits the torso, no ER visit, just straight to the morgue.
the tragic thing: they weren't bad guys, just a bad driver. c'mon guys, we've been here three years, everybody in Iraq knows, DON'T TRY TO RUN AMERICAN CHECKPOINTS! DON'T RUN UP ON AMERICAN CONVOYS! it's like driving on the right side of the road, it's not optional....
i can't blame the marines, you've got about 100 yards, just a few seconds to make the decision; if you don't fire, you and your friends can be dead in another couple seconds. it's a helluva burden to place on a 20 year old. something they must live with forever. a burden of their service that often goes unappreciated....
a bunch of customers just rolled into the ER, so i gotta go.
looking forward to coming home in may.
love to all,
brian

Published for the first time in this memoir, Detained is a candid look into America’s involvement in the “Global War on Terror.”
Humorous and insightful, you hear what it is like to be a doctor to Taliban and al-Qaeda insurgents, to serve at Saddam Hussein’s trial, and to work with a mostly Muslim population in an occupied country. Dr. Rees gives us a first-hand look at our wars, and at some of the ethical dilemmas faced by a physician on the battlefield: in the morning he may be required to provide medical care to detainees who have killed or maimed US soldiers, and in the afternoon he may have to send US soldiers, who are developing posttraumatic stress, back to combat duty.
While attending the US Army War College, Colonel Rees integrated evidence-based discoveries from Eastern spiritual traditions (such as meditation) that have shown promise in treating and preventing the moral injury of posttraumatic stress, as well as interventions that can help to modify behavior on the battlefield, actually influencing the course of combat. He explores his own Catholicism and shares his unique inside perspectives on topics as diverse as how the Army molds soldiers, how the Veterans Administration treats veterans, what went wrong at Abu Ghraib and in our invasion of Iraq, the dynamics fueling the Transcendental Meditation organization, the influences of fundamentalism in both Islam and Christianity, and whether Islam is a “religion of peace.”
Detained unflinchingly addresses some of the defining questions of this generation: how and why have Americans been engaged in wars for a decade and a half? Will religion and spirituality help or hinder our efforts to conclude our ongoing wars on favorable terms? Dr. Rees reflects on a number of risks we face as a family of nations, how we can avoid a “clash of civilizations,” and how we must heal casualties at home and abroad.
All the proceeds from this book go toward programs that support veterans and those with PTSD.

Review by BlueInk Reviews:
“Rees shared his observations in a torrent of emails to family and friends back home. That raw material -- updated since with additional comments and information -- comprises roughly half of his book and makes powerful reading.
“Elsewhere, the irreverent Rees loads up on black humor, sending emails that could double as hilarious scripts for M*A*S*H. The book is enhanced by photos and videos at www.detainedthebook.com.
“Readers [who]... reach the end of this densely detailed, but thought-provoking and painstakingly researched material... will find the journey worthwhile.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brian Rees
• Release date: Aug 12, 2015
• ISBN: 9780996277938

Brian Rees

Brian Rees M.D. retired from the US Army Reserve as a colonel after 37 years of commissioned service. A graduate of the US Army War College, he is a veteran of five tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, and spent eight years in hospital commands. Dr. Rees received his medical degree and master’s degree in public health from Tulane University and is a board certified family physician. He has had his own private practice; after 9/11 he served as a physician in the California state prison system, as well as in the Veterans Administration. He has researched and written about the application of the Transcendental Meditation technique for the promotion of soldier resilience, resolution of PTSD, and the reduction of violent conflict. Recently Dr. Rees was the lead author of two studies published in a peer reviewed journal regarding the application of TM in Congolese refugees with posttraumatic stress.

Book preview

PART 1

AFGHANISTAN 2005

CHAPTER I BAGRAM

-----Original Message-----

From: [e-mail]

Sent: Thursday, April 28, 2005 5:15 PM

Subject: from Ft. Benning Georgia

having a grand time here. the cool weather has gone away, very sweaty today. lots of arab-americans here heading there as translators, and apparently making big bucks doing it too. body armor and the new lbv (load bearing vest) is heavy. either that or i'm getting too old for this scheis.

weapons qualify tomorrow and the next day. i can't believe how damn loud the 50 cal is, never got that close to one before. much louder than the m60 or the saw.

hey, see youse,

love, brian

-----Original Message-----

From

Sent Sunday, May 8, 2005 2:50 am

Subject happy mother's day

hey youse guys,

i'm at ramstein air base (about 5 miles from landstuhl! small world) waiting for a plane to manas kyrgystan or some damn place, (where they had a coup last month and locked down the base), so i can wait for a plane to bagram afghanistan, where i'll find out where i'm going. it might just be bagram after all.

toenails serve a protective function. i notice that now that mine is gone. feels kind of exposed down there.

woke up @ 2:30 this a.m. and couldn't get back to sleep. we'll see what a couple more time zones do.

hope all's well there.

happy mother's day!

love,

brian

_____________________________________

-----Original Message-----

From

Date Thu, 12 May 2005 13:15:46 +0400

Subject afghan update

Hello all,

Here's a little update. Left Ft. Benning, then a trip a day through Germany, Kyrgyzstan, and finally Bagram Afghanistan where I currently sit. Further travel to Shindand out west near Iran has been canceled or delayed until end of May.

Bagram seems just like any other base except for the wind and dirt, the local nationals walking about escorted or not, the troops from everywhere, Brits, Slovaks, Spanish, Egyptian, Korean, etc., SF[Special Forces –BR]guys with beards, and everybody armed to the teeth. I've got my M9 which seems somewhat inadequate. But it's hard to imagine any bad guys shooting things up in here. If they did, the greatest risk to my health would be ricochets from friendly fire. It feels secure here, mess halls, gyms, PX/BX, civilian contractors. There's always something blowing up at night, don't know if it's artillery or just detonating some abandoned ordnance, but it seems distant enough that I go right back to sleep. The base is a couple miles long with about a six mile perimeter. There's a bunker nearby, but so far no alarm so I haven't gotten into it.

I'm moving today to the other end of the base, the unit I thought I was going to be assigned to ain't the one, so finally I'll get to unpack. Met some of my patients today, orange jumpsuits, shaved heads long beards. I thought they'd all be Pashtuns, but apparently there are Yemenis, Egyptians, Arabs from all over, Uzbeks, etc. all flavor of Taliban and foreign fighters. Sometimes the interpreters are stumped.

Kandahar has a little prison, @ 100 personnel, we've got closer to 800. [ignore the numbers, they're wrong (and classified to boot, oops! don't tell anyone)] I'm the only doc for the facility, that makes me the chief medical officer. I can tell myself what to do. Anyway, if you can open the link below, the bad guys in that article I think are on their way to me, at least some 20 guys from kandahar are 'cause they're full up.

http://www4.army.mil/ocpa/print.php?story_id_key=7306[dear reader, this link is obsolete. BR]

Computer time may get cut off here momentarily, so I'll sign off before all this zaps into nothingness.

Ah, my address:

Brian Rees (no rank)

HHD TF Cerberus

APO AE 09354

Take care all,

Brian

That was the story; I was supposed to be assigned as surgeon (every physician in the US Army is a Physician & Surgeon) to part of the 101st Airborne Division. Soon after my arrival, change of plan, I’m assigned to the BTIF (Bagram Theater Internment Facility), as, I am told, the Chief Medical Officer. Well, at least I’m the ‘chief’ I say, that makes it a little more tolerable. How many doctors on my staff? ask I. The reply, Just you.

----- Original Message -----

From: Atsuko Rees [My wife. BR]

Date: Tuesday, May 10, 2005 8:46 pm

Brian,

Good to hear from you. I'm worried that you may get hurt now that you are actually there and others are kia.I guess this will take my mind off the office. Write daily if you can.

I turned on your car this last weekend and boy, does it sound bad.

Otherwise, we are all doing well.

Love, Atsuko

From

Sent Thursday, May 12, 2005 0:34 am

To Atsuko Rees

yo babay,

i'm inside the wire, not humping through villages like those marines were. [A little white lie. And more about these Marines KIA in the next chapter. BR] i'll write a little epistle update soon.

so how are you? how is the office? how is dog?

hello melissa, [My daughter. BR]

what's up? how is your club basketball? did you get a cd of your performance? i want to watch that with my mom and brudders when i get back, so you don't have to show it to them before unless they ask. how is school wrapping up? gimme the scoop. there's a dog here the MPs have adopted. big white LAZY dog. scratched his ears, butt, the whole deal, didn't even open his eyes! they say he works the night shift, perks up later. [More about this dog in 5 pages. BR]

love y'all, dadushkahubby

So here’s the quickie background. I’m a family physician, just a regular kind of guy, not particularly big and bad. I was in the Army Reserve from June 1976 until February 2014, with seven years active from 1979 until 1986 plus a couple of previous deployments in 1996 and 2004, to Germany. After 9/11, I volunteered for deployments overseas. I was the commander of the 349th General Hospital (which then restructured into the 349th Combat Support Hospital) from January 2002 until January 2007, which made deploying a bit cumbersome; but Army Reserve physicians (and nurse anesthetists) were able to go for short deployments, 90 days BOG ‘boots on the ground,’ so less than 4 months gone at a time. In 2005, I went to Afghanistan as you see. We individual deployers (that is, our unit of origin didn’t mobilize, just us; we were to join different outfits that were already overseas as a replacement or individual augmentee) had a two week train-up at Fort Benning Georgia before we went. We were a mixed bag, some medical but mostly non-medical, mostly army but some sailors and airmen, some spooky trigger pulling spy types, even some civilian contractors in some of our training.

My major headache was my big toenail. About a year before this deployment, I injured my toe playing basketball with young guys, and my big toenail fell off, with a little help. Unfortunately it grew back weird and the edges were digging into my toe. I was hoping that it would grow through this problem, but no; and indeed it seemed to be getting worse just as I was heading to Ft. Benning. After my first week there it finally starting hurting like the devil as soon as I put my boot on, and then two days before we were to start flying to Afghanistan it was killing me, and I had to seek relief.

The thing to do would have been to go on sick call, and get a referral for specialty care to get my toenail ripped off; but going through the process by the numbers would likely have resulted in my being recycled to the next iteration of people being deployed. It would have delayed my arrival in theater and screwed things up for the people who were counting on my being there on time. And, though as a medical professional I really, really shouldn’t feel this way, I didn’t want to be the wimp who goes on sick call and then misses movement to theater because I’m ‘sick.’ So I called the podiatry clinic, played the rank and professional courtesy card and begged for mercy, and the Chief of Podiatry kindly allowed me to come to the clinic for treatment.

It’s a teaching hospital, so there were podiatry students there providing care (under supervision of course). One of them placed a digital block, injecting lidocaine along the sides of my big toe to block the nerves that were causing the pain. It takes about 20 minutes for that block to make the nerves go numb, so when she started the bamboo-shoot-under-the-nail torture after only two minutes, I felt every bit of it. Since I had already exerted special privilege just to get in the door that same day, I opted not to complain. Also, the damn thing hurt so much, I was perversely thrilled as I watched (and felt) her stick an elevator under the nail and dig it around to free up my nail, then grab the nail basically with pliers and twist and pull the whole thing off.

The good news was that by the time I hobbled out to the bus stop and the bus arrived to take me back to my billet, the anesthetic had kicked in and I was pain free… for a couple of hours anyway. For the last two days of training (low crawling and climbing over sandbag walls etc.), I wore my giant US Army issued snow-boot on my throbbing affected foot, and I kept wearing it on the flights to Afghanistan.

This whole thing left a disproportionate impression on me. I am reminded of the Confederate corps commander General Longstreet saying at Gettysburg that the absence of his subordinate divisional commander General Pickett was like going into battle with one boot off.This was my first time going into a war zone, and I was not 100%. War is a physical enterprise; I wasn’t anticipating any John Wayne heroic moments, but anything can happen and I didn’t want to be a liability. Also, I was already acutely conscious of being older and less physically capable than I would like to have been. Adding a bum wheel to my senescence was unwelcome. Fortunately, over time I (and my toe) healed without incident.[photos]

________________________________________

-----Original Message-----

From

Date Sun, 05 Jun 2005 21:48:55 +0400

Afghan update #2 5 June 2005

Hello dear friends and family and colleagues,

OK here ‘tis, the latest from the gulag. More about the torture and abuse later.

Many folks have asked about my daily routine here, am I living in a tent, do I get any days off, what do I do on my time off, etc. so here ya go. Days off, not exactly. There is no sick call for detainees on Sunday, but usually something comes up. There is no place to go, you can’t leave the base without being in a convoy with lots of people with guns so there’s no going into town for a pizza. The base is pretty developed though.

Getting lots of exercise, plenty of gym support, so after my regular program that’s first thing in the morning; there’s tons of food around if you don’t mind walking to the mess hall. I skipped breakfast the other day and took my malaria prophylaxis on an empty stomach, yuck, never again, I think I know what the first trimester feels like now. Then sick call for the detainees and for some of the local MP units.

One of the interpreters is a good guy, named Aziz, living in L.A. for the last twenty plus years. His daughters go UCLA, one of them went to the high school around the corner from the 349th[the 349th Combat Support Hospital, my reserve unit back in Los Angeles. BR] at Hazard Park. Small world.

I took the APFT[Annual Physical Fitness Test. BR]1 June, thought I was fully acclimated, but this mile high altitude had me sucking wind. Still passed though. My smallpox vaccination has stopped itching and my missing big toenail has healed enough so my gimpy limp is gone. Alleluia.

I was living in a tent, then a plywood room, now a conex, like a boxcar, about 8x20 feet, usually for two people but being exalted in rank I get my own. It’s kind of like where Ripley lived in the second Alien movie, but no water. I do miss indoor plumbing, although it is less than a football field away to the toilets and shower point. In the category of more than you really needed to know, I heartily recommend to all males over 50 who deploy to bring along a little handheld urinal, I am so pleased with my foresight I could pop, it is the most useful and helpful device imaginable. Enough of that. But those 0330 schleps to the latrine are not necessary now. Excellent! Really, enough.

A couple weeks ago, I went down to Kandahar, love those semi-tactical landings in the spam-in-a-can C-130s…this is your weight on the moon…this is your weight on Jupiter…and if there was a window, you’d be looking straight down at the ground. Fortunately, I’m not troubled by airsickness, others are and it must be awful. Visited the detainee facility there, and saw the old headquarters of the Taliban. Can’t enter the gym there with a weapon, can’t get into the mess hall without a weapon.

War College online is all consuming for any time I do find free. Otherwise I’m busy with brigade surgeon stuff, training and practice issues for the medics, trying to keep soldiers from being unnecessarily evacuated from theater because you never know if/when they’re coming back. Also, trying to arrange health civil affairs missions out in the surrounding villages, do some hearts-and-minds stuff.

Last Sunday I went out on the 20K patrol with two HUMMVs worth of MPs, looking for some weapons and then escorting the Air Force EOD guys out to a place where somebody had spotted some ordnance sitting around where it didn’t belong. We found the stuff and it didn’t blow up, that’s good. Dismounted operations are not the best because of the mine threat. After a little while local kids start approaching us, which is a good thing; according to the MPs, unlike Iraq, the bad guys here won’t launch anything at you with kids around. [That has changed for the worse over the years. BR] If they do, the local villagers find ‘em and they meet a bad end. Some of the teens are sullen, but I found that no matter their age, if you take a digital photo and/or video of them and show it to them they just love it and then pose incessantly. Lots of poverty, of course. The Red Army destroyed most of the canals, and the Taliban was worthless, so the irrigation and agricultural infrastructure, such as it was, is just recovering. Most of the locals seem OK with us being around. Little kids all run to see us and give thumbs up. The MPs have chased out a lot of the riff-raff so the regular citizens can live their lives.

This Sunday (today, in the day off category) I spent with the doctor from the ICRC (Red Cross) who was meeting with detainees and following up on their complaints, making sure we’re doing the right thing. I wore my Mengele name tag. He was a reasonable guy, a Finnish otorhinolaryngologist who was about to finish his 6 months of family separation in Afghanistan with the ICRC and move with his wife and 4 kids to Nepal.

The biggest issue for us right now is getting prostheses for all these guys with amputations. Turns out the ICRC has a factory in Kabul with 250 employees making prostheses full-time. Since the Soviets failed to make maps of most of the minefields in Afghanistan, and there are an estimated 10 million mines here, still armed, if you’re in the business of taking care of amputations, you’ve got job security.

The ICRC is OK, they do good work; I used to think highly of Amnesty International but this ‘Gulag’ thing is inappropriate and has everybody here a bit pissed off. Humans run this operation, so there will be errors and abuses especially in the heat of the initial fighting and capture, but these guys get better medical care from us than any of their countrymen can get, they gain weight in custody, they are not abused here, they are allowed to observe all their traditional and religious practices, they are supplied with Korans that are never handled disrespectfully; the entire chain of command is exquisitely sensitive to the slightest perception of impropriety or abuse.

After meeting with the ICRC, the commander of all forces here in Afghanistan, LTG Eichenberry, came to the facility for a briefing and tour and re-emphasized all the steps we take to assure proper treatment of detainees. We have carved out the moral high ground for ourselves, so I understand the scrutiny; but anything we do wrong despite all our efforts should pale in comparison with the horrendous, systematic, deliberate, medieval acts of the Taliban. Anyway, off my soapbox.

There’s a PA system here, like Radar on MASH, Giant Voice makes announcements. Last night we had another motorcade, this for the guys who were KIA east of here the other day. Here’s a link to an article about the event. CJTF-76, that’s us.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/8092422&&CM=EmailThis&CE=1

The Voice announces the time, then they drive the coffins down the main road here to the flight line. We all line the road and present arms as they pass. It’s very sobering, very sad.

Didn’t mean to end on a down note. Just talked to a soldier who just got back from leave, he’s been gone since before I arrived so I didn’t know him. Asked him how his leave went, turns out his wife divorced him while he was gone so he spent his whole time away in court. Bummer. I am the luckiest guy on earth with my family, I would be beside myself without knowing Atsuko [my wife. BR]has the home front covered and my progeny are such great kids. And my siblings are keeping my Mom out of mischief.

Time to go. All is really quite well here, hope you all are thriving,

Brian

________________________________________

Email ‘tres;’ unknown date

________________________________________

Twice weekly in the surgeons brief we get reminded that CENTCOM general order 1 precludes pets and mascots. The vet was stared at and he shook his head and said, 'if you've got american soldiers, you're going to have pets. besides, this is for the MPs to enforce,' which I had to stifle a chuckle at, since I'm assigned to an MP battalion task force, and living in our headquarters (don't tell anybody) is a big white @10 month old mutt pup named Lucky that one of the MPs rescued from a bunch of burned out soviet crap on the minefield side of the airfield. (he disappears when general officers come by.) he's had his shots, and we/they have been trying to get him adopted, but couldn't get all the authorizations etc. he needs to get on a commercial flight out of kabul. otherwise, he faces a very uncertain fate. fortunately, RHIP, and even though i'm the wrong corps, with a 'colonel' and a 'doctor' next to your name (who has to know it's medical corps not veterinary?), you can approve just about anything. so tomorrow Lucky will be on his way via dubai to a family friend of one of the MI [military intelligence. BR]guys in michigan.

dogs rule.

This isn’t exactly what happened to Lucky, he did not leave the next day after all. The next chapter reveals the actual tale.

________________________________________

A friend sent me this story [so I forwarded this email back in 2005. It’s not my original work but captures some of the zeitgeist. BR]:

----- Original Message -----

Sent: Thursday, June 16, 2005 10:54 PM

Subject: Marine K-9

Marine's K-9 honored: 'One of their own' on Sunday, May 8, 2005

Chief Warrant Officer PETER ZORBA

Squadron HMM-764The Moonlighters

Dear Friends and Family,

Weather is beginning to climb up into the 100s now. With the heat comes the dust and sandstorm season here, so many of our days are spent working and living in an orange haze of diffused sunshine, wind, heat and dust that gets everywhere and covers everything (aircraft, equipment, skin, teeth, weapons, even the food in the chow hall).

We're all glad to be at the two-month mark, though it feels more like our ninth. Hard to believe we were home at all sometimes. that we haven't been here, doing what we do, day after day - night after night - all along. Still, morale is high and both the Marines and the helicopters we're flying are doing well, in spite of long hours and high operational tempo. It must go hand in hand. The busier you are, the faster time goes. The faster time goes, the happier you are. Needless to say, most everyone tries to stay as busy as possible. The days are long, but the weeks are flying (no pun intended).

I want to tell you all a quick story, and if any of you know me at all then you know I love a good story! But I think this story says something about the organization that I am a small part of here.

Last time I wrote, I described the Marines, in particular the young men and women here with me that I am so proud to serve with. Many of you responded that you were touched by the knowledge, or at least depiction of those kids, those heroes, for that is what they are. But, I digress.

A couple weeks ago I flew a night mission into Baghdad. Baghdad is a big city, and where we actually flew into, whether it would be a name you'd recognize from the news or not, doesn't really matter. Suffice to say that I fly into Baghdad almost every night, but this night's mission was a special ASR (assault support request). A Marine K-9 had been killed and another dog wounded earlier in the day and we were going there to pick up the dead K-9, the wounded K-9 and their Marine handlers. How these Marines were attacked, whether in contact with insurgents, a sniper or an improvised explosive device (IED), we never knew.

We took off from our base and flew through the dark, star- clustered Arabian night in an open combat spread. Radios crackled and disembodied voices rolled through my helmet. The lights of small towns scattered across the desert floor, illuminated with a green glow through my Nags (night vision goggles) passed below us and in and out of my gun sights.

At about midnight we were on short final into a small LZ with battle- scarred concrete walls, and a hardened outpost with a bullet-riddled watchtower. As we touched down, I hopped out the back of our helicopter and watched as our dash 2 landed about 40 feet to our 7 o'clock. The LZ was dark and no one was around. Through my NVGs I could see the Marines in the tower, and the bunker at its base, watching us, not really thrilled to see us there, two phrogs spinning on the deck inside their perimeter. And why would they be, as we presented a wonderfully enhanced target for indirect fire (IDF) in their position. Not that they don't take IDF often enough, just that we were now an added bonus to any one already predisposed to 'throwing' a few mortars or RPGs our way, and theirs!

We waited. Five minutes. Ten minutes. After 15 minutes, with still no sign of anyone, or any dogs, the crew began to grow a little uneasy:

We're here, where the hell are they?

Goddammit. Who the hell is running this place?

Do you see anybody, gunner?

Negative, sir.

If we don't see anybody soon, let's get dash 2 out of here, so at least there's only one of us on the deck here in case we take incoming. You copy that (call sign)."

Roger that. Copy all.

Just then a door of a small industrial looking building about a hundred meters away, opened and I could see Marines moving awkwardly towards us. They were carrying their rifles with their outside hands and with the inside hand, each held the edge of a body bag. Behind them followed another Marine with a shouldered rifle, MOLLIE pack, and his hands were on the back of the bag.

But this Marine's hands held the trailing edge of the body bag more like a priest would grasp a holy cloth or a child his mother's hem, not really supporting any weight, just holding on. As they loaded the body bag into our bird, I took the young Marine's pack and stowed it and then got him buckled in. The wounded K-9 and his handler were loaded into dash 2, and I sat back down behind my .50 cal and called us clear of wires and trees as we lifted into the night sky.

Once airborne, and on the go, out of the cultural lighting from over the town, I looked back to see a big Marine, head in his hands, sitting in darkness, bent over the body of his dog. That was a long flight. My pilot, a battle-hardened colonel, kept asking me How's our boy doing? as if he were a worried parent checking on his child. He handed me back a small package of chocolate chip cookies he'd been saving for the return to base. Give 'em to our boy. He's had a rough day of it.

I unhooked my gunner's belt and walked back to the young man. I put my hand on his shoulder, handed him the cookies and patted him on the back, smiling some compassionate, but dumb, smile there in the dark, 300' somewhere over Iraq.

What else can you do?

When we touched back down at our base, the passenger/cargo terminal sent a vehicle out for the dogs. I helped the Marine with his gear, out away from our rotor arc, and then ran back up the ramp and into our bird just in time to grab one of the terminal guys as he was reaching for the body of our Marine, thinking it was just another piece of gear.

Hey man - what the . are you doing?! I yelled over the engine noise.

Leave him alone. We'll get him. The crew chief and I reverently bent over and gently lifted the body bag and carried it out of our plane. I have carried body bags before here, and I was surprised by how light this one was. I placed my arms under the dog's body and gently set him down in the vehicle.

And then, out of sheer habit, I petted the poor pup on the shoulder; or maybe it was his hip. His body was still soft, even inside the thick black polyethylene bag. As I turned to head back to my plane, I was face to face with the fallen Marine's master.

The young corporal looked at me, he had seen me pet his dog, and I like to think he saw how reverently we carried his fallen comrade's body out of the plane, but maybe not. Red eyes and a sad, exhausted face were eclipsed by a smile of gratitude as he shook my hand and mouthed the words thank you. Then he was gone and we were back on the plane and set to lift.

Once back on our line after we had shut down, we all sat down in the back. It was quiet and no one really spoke until the colonel asked,

Did you take care of our boy? Was he hurting too bad? Did you do right by the pup? Did we treat them both with the respect and honor they deserved?

Yes sir. I replied last year while we were here, the brevity code for friendly KIA was Angels. I don't know what it is this time for OIF III, but it is a very fitting term. So I told the colonel Yes, sir, the 'Angel' was carried with respect, and treated with dignity and compassion, as was his handler. The colonel liked this and we all agreed that the dog was a Marine, as much as any of us.

But on another level, that kid had not only lost his partner, but he'd lost his dog, a dog that I am sure he loved and that loved him back.

That had touched us all deep down somewhere, where you're still a kid yourself. We were proud to have been able to do what we did for this fellow Marine, this 'Angel', and each of us would willingly do it again any time. That's what Marines do.

I guess what I am saying is that we continually hear the question asked, Why are we here? I heard a Marine say yesterday, Don't ask me why I am here. I don't make our country's policy, I execute policy. I guess to me why is not really that important.

What is important is 'how' I am here. To me, this story illuminates that how, by showing the nature of the Corps that makes Marines what they are, and in turn, is made what it is by the Marines devoted to it and to each other.

I am part of an organization that believed it was important enough to send two helicopters and their crews, into harm’s way in order to retrieve the body of one of its fallen. It made no difference that the Marine killed in action was a dog and not a man, what does matter is that each one of us involved felt the same.

To us, not only was it a warranted and reasonable utilization of Marines, Marine Corps assets and resources, but the risk to eight Marines and two aircraft was far outweighed by a pervading sense of honor, commitment and esprit de corps. Why else am I here, if not to go get a boy and his dog - both of whom are fellow Marines. Few things here have been as important as that mission to me, and to my crew as well. That's how we are.

CHAPTER II IRAQ; there and back again

From

Sent Friday, May 13, 2005 4:08 am

To Atsuko Rees

Subject Re: RE: afghan update

hi melissa, can any of your classmates locate kyrgyzstan and bagram on a map? doubt if i could. did i already ask you that? getting senile.

love, dad

hi atsuko,

…and this should be my address for the duration. i'll make a couple of little side trips. apparently one of them will be to iraq. don't tell my mom, i'll tell her when i get back. not sure when i go, should be brief.

saw a couple of the enemy in the hospital (couple hundred meters away) post-op who were in the fight that killed our two marines here.[More in 7 pages. BR]they'll be all mine in a few days when they leave the hospital for my facility. hard to feel compassion for them; then i see one of them is 17, looks about 12. he saw me looking, gave me a little wave. jesus h christ. what a business.

gotta go.

love,

brian

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-----Original Message-----

From

Date Wed, 22 Jun 2005 20:16:14 +0400

Subject Iraqi update #1

Hello all,

There has been a slight change in itinerary on my tour, so now I'm at Camp Victory near Baghdad. Since they have many more detainees here than in Afghanistan, and since they had the big problems here that commanded a lot of attention and resources, a bunch of us have come here from Bagram to see how they do what they do. I'm on a computer in the morale shop and I'm about to get kicked off, so this may end abruptly.

The ride down was delayed, 5 warm hours sitting in the C-130 on the runway in Bagram waiting for a broken fuel pump to resurrect itself, then 6 more hours down to Qatar. Now that place is hot. And the sand is like talcum powder and there is no orifice it cannot penetrate. Not much point in taking a shower, covered with grime instantly when you're outside.

Uneventful flight to Baghdad, despite the crew chief messing with us with tales of upside down vomiting etc. So far so good here, the camp surrounds one of Saddam's old palaces; man he was livin' large, manmade lake, etc., the rest of the place looks pretty ate up. We should be going to Tikrit and down near Basra and of course Abu Ghraib, ground zero for the mess. My sister told me to avoid helicopters. Oops, can't do that around here.

OK kicked off,

all the best,

Brian

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-----Original Message-----

From

Date Fri, 24 Jun 2005 22:28:28 +0400

Subject iraqi update continued

hola all,

since i got kicked off the computer two days ago....

well that evening our living area here at camp victory received a mortar attack. haji got lucky this time, it landed in our living area and hurt a couple soldiers, no fatalities. i wasn't in my tent at the time. didn't even know about it until the next day, we went into baghdad and visited the 86th CSH, went into the ICU and there's a female soldier on her way to Landstuhl, intubated, zonked, had had her exploratory laparotomy for her shrapnel wounds 'from the attack at victory last night...' what attack? the place is so big i had heard the boom but ignored it. anyway, she'll be fine except for the scar.

went to the american embassy in one of saddam's palaces. it really is beautiful inside (except we've turned the grand ballroom into little cubicles, etc.). went to the central criminal court of iraq, talked to judges (since i'm here with mostly MPs trying to figure out the legalities dealing with detainees) toured the court saddam will be tried in, acted like tourists, took photos in front of the bombed out baath party headquarters, etc. etc. dust storm grounded the helicopters back home, so we had to convoy out on that road between town and the airport that nobody likes to drive [ied alley]. these young guys running the convoy are sharp and lethal looking, especially attentive going under the overpasses, a favorite haunt of the bad guys. they got us home ok.

then today off to tikrit, about an hour north by blackhawk (3-4 hours by ground), saddam's hometown, checked out the little regional detainee facility there. i like ours in afghanistan better. better medical support if i do say so myself. so i missed game 7 of the nba finals. c'est la vie.

generally much better infrastructure here than in afghanistan, more commerce, more paved roads, more vehicles. people wave at the helicopters, we're only @ 50- 200 feet altitude, except up up quick over the high tension wires then back on the deck.

hot today, 118 degrees. ('in the shade'... where else but in the shade? if you put the thermometer in the sun it'd burst) but as hudson said in 'aliens,' 'it's a dry heat.' and there's a breeze. from hell and full of dust but a breeze. doesn't feel that much hotter than louisiana in the summer.

minding my own business doing my little TM program[author’s note: more about ‘TM program’later. BR]in the helicopter flying back when we had to get out to refuel in balad. then boom boom boom about ten seconds apart a few hundred meters away, the debate is on, did we just get rocketed or mortared? if it was a controlled detonation (of found unexploded ordnance), why three separate explosions? if they were shooting at us, how very rude, and poor shots to boot. it does give one the feeling though that bad things can come on the freaky fluky, wrong place wrong time; you tilt the odds in your favor with training and protective measures, but this indirect fire is really beyond your control. anyway, we all thought it prudent to leave so we did, not much more excitement.

until we got to camp cropper (yep it goes by many other names) back by baghdad (just ahead of some real lousy visibility due to dust again). high value (deck of cards types) are detained there. as i was busy grounding my body armor and weapon and kevlar, a bug flew in my ear and decided not to leave. now that is very distracting. sitting through the briefing by the facility commander, i could feel it crawling around, sounded loud as hell, tried to dig it out with the pocket clip part of a bic pen, to no avail. fortunately, there is a little infirmary there for the detainees and i finagled a little professional courtesy from the medics, poured some earwax softener in my ear (little SOB went ape at that) and finally squirted him out with some water and an intracath. should have just had someone blow hard on the opposite ear. i took some pictures of the critter, and then it started moving around, still alive. let him go to find another ear.

tomorrow off to abu ghraib, spend the night there. and getting kicked off here again.

hope all's well,

brian

I used the term haji (also spelled hajji) in the above email. It is originally an honorific term that refers to a Muslim who has made the pilgrimage to Mecca. But I learned over time that its use by US military personnel in Iraq was usually derogatory. I didn’t mean any offense by using it, although that may just be a weak excuse for having been insensitive and lazy and assuming that no Muslims were reading my email. I never called anyone ‘haji;’ I wouldn’t use the term today except in its original context.

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----- Original Message -----

From

Date Mon, 27 Jun 2005 21:19:43 +0400

Subject iraqi exodus update

hello all once again,

shouldn't get kicked off today.

when last we checked, off to abu ghraib. what a pit. hot, dry, dusty/dirty, surrounded by unsecure areas, no place to go nothing to do much with any time off, can't see anything green, uniform to go anywhere is kevlar and iba (body armor), adds about 30-40 pounds and almost as many degrees; lots of detainees. we got our briefing and then walked around the place. it's outdoors, tents for all concerned. the buildings where the abuses took place have been turned over to the iraqis.

there are some apartments outside the prison that actually overlook the interior of the prison. occasionally insurgents sublet an apartment (ak-47 lease probably) and the yard takes small arms fire. in april they had a coordinated attack, diversionary fire from the apartments, ambushes on the two main roads to stop reinforcements, and multiple vbeids (vehicle borne improvised explosive devices) trying to blow holes in the walls opposite the apartments. lasted a couple hours, casualties among GIs and detainees (and insurgents), but no escapes.

interestingly, they have regular meetings with detainee leaders who present grievances and requests and demands, etc. one of their demands was that they remain in US custody and not be turned over to the iraqis for incarceration. without getting back on my soap box and getting too snippy about it, it reflects the fact that they are, with the exception of the occasional inevitable human screw-up, being treated correctly by US forces.

the hospital is in DEPMEDS[DEPloyable MEDical Systems. BR] inside a hangar, a little weird but OK with me. checked it all out, all the while thinking 'man it would suck to be stuck here.' turns out the current 115th field hospital is about to leave, met the chief nurse of the incoming hospital, a reserve CSH out of the new york. oh yeah, what CSH? the 344th. hmmm, 344th, that sounds familiar. uh-oh, i think that's the outfit i'm penciled in to join in feb 2006. oy vey. back to the future. well. maybe i'm wrong.

spent the night there, funky billets next to the hangar the hospital is in. didn't get to a computer because the prospect of putting all that crap on in that heat to walk to the MWR (morale & welfare) was beyond me. i had sweat completely through my DCUs, such that the notebooks and various papers in my shirt pockets were all drenched.

before bed i'm enjoying a luke warm shower in the tin can shower point when BOOM the walls rattle and it sounded like something blew up right outside my door. turns out it was hundreds of meters away, outside the wall, an IED on the road, got one of our HUMMVs. by the time i dried off, they were bringing the US soldier casualties in past my door to the hospital. no fatalities, just minor injuries, which by the sound of that sucker means our armor must be pretty damn good stuff. and the violence required to defeat our armor, as of course does happen, must really be horrific. apaches are fairly constantly flying around over the roads right outside the prison, discouraging mischief.

next morning after some more looking about, we fly out on a blackhawk. there is always wind and dust and sand blowing, and unfortunately, I just learned there was a crash of a blackhawk in baghdad that same day, yesterday.

mission accomplished, we're ready to leave ('unass the AO') and with some hustling manage to get on a C-130 heading for kuwait yesterday afternoon. we two lucky colonels were invited to sit in the cockpit (which felt like the hottest place on earth until we got to about 20,000 feet). apparently there is a bad neighborhood near the end of the runway, and the afternoon/dusk the day before someone had fired a shoulder mounted missile at a c-130 on take-off, so the aircrew was a bit antsy. sure enough, right upon take-off the plane's systems detect the signature of somebody shooting something at us and it automatically starts shooting off flares/countermeasures; the pilots start evasive maneuvers which were very stimulating. they turn sharply toward the threat so the presumed missile can't detect the heat of the back of the engines. i was filming the takeoff from inside the cockpit with my new little camera; as soon as the excitement starts, of course the battery goes dead.

oh well.

needless to say, we weren't shot down, and the crew spent good portions of the next half hour talking on the radio (i had a headset on to eavesdrop) to intel back in baghdad about what what happened. since they didn't see any missiles, some of them thought it might just have been some arc-welding down on the ground. whatever. i was glad to go.

the cool part was landing in kuwait, they were vectored in a bit too high and had to lose about 4500 feet in the last couple miles before touchdown, no faa rules about seatbelts so i got to stand behind the pilot and ride the descent down like a surfboard.

anyway long story short we thought we'd spend the night but were awakened at 0100 urgently to make a 0125 roll call for the next flight out, which we rushed to make, and then waited until 0630 for takeoff. managed to miss three meals in a row, no harm there.

back in bagram, sweet home afghanistan. lucky is still here, not sure what the missed connection is.

well, since i was up at 0100, i'm gonna sack out.

night all,

brian

[Photos]

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----- Original Message -----

From

Date Sat, 02 Jul 2005 13:43:06 +0400

Subject afghan update 3

hello all,

while i was gone, we had visits here from high-ups in the afghan government. they met with lots of the detainees in the recreation yard, laid out the reconciliation program the government is promoting. the detainees have to promise not to oppose the government and to participate in the new and improved afghanistan and not blow anybody up. they all agreed so it looks like many of them will headed out the door sometime soon. we released a whole bunch of them today (i'm vague because the numbers are classified secret squirrel stuff that only we spooky types may know).

many of the detainees are very ignorant, not stupid but ignorant, the taliban was explicitly luddite about just about everything except the arabic version of the koran; and most of them do not understand arabic! so some of them had never seen or known a foreigner before being busted by our troops. some have apparently developed some appreciation for the fact that they are living better in our custody (in terms of food, temperature/conditions, freedom of religion, access to medical care, etc.) than they ever have before, and i believe they will adapt to the new reality here. some are just hardasses and probably will not be released.

been having some power outages here lately. while meeting with the judge in baghdad last week, just as he was commenting about how the iraqis were used to overcoming challenges and dealing with hard times, the power went out in the court building.

due to heavy snows and now very hot weather here, there were floods and new refugee camps have sprung up. couple days ago we went to one of them, bringing food and water and clothing etc. [this story was covered in a local newsletter, it is at[pdfs & slides Ch2]. BR]very interesting, they seemed glad to see us. there isn't much hesitation about corporal punishment and cuffs to the head of kids by the adults. the kids quickly learned that GIs wouldn't hit them so they swarmed around us. took a bunch of photos, see if they turn out.[photos]

last night we had the fallen comrade ceremony, down our main street drove the 16 coffins from the chinook that got shot down, very sad. very silent after they drove by. everyone's still distressed by the 6 or 7 still missing guys on the sf team, they stage out of here so you wonder which face you're not seeing out running or in the chow hall. [Video]

the interpreters often have interesting stories, the guy out to the village with us is a young tajik who has lived in kabul all his life, through the soviet occupation and the taliban. he has been working for the US army for three years now, never been to the states; got a week old baby. very optimistic about his country. plenty of stories about the abuses of the soviets and taliban, he sits in on all our pre-mission briefings, can't believe we always take time to instruct soldiers on culturally sensitive issues (don't stare at the women, no pictures of veiled females, etc.) another interpreter in the facility is hazzari, they've been on the bottom of the food chain in afghanistan for centuries. he's been living in new york, now he's back because he sees some future for his ethnic group here.

happy fourth of july all,

brian

In the ‘not stupid but ignorant’ department: A common complaint among the detainees was kidney pain. Because they were so adamant, at first I would work them all up; but their tests were unremarkable, renal function was fine, urine was clear, their kidneys were fine. It turns out they just had sore backs. You may remember it was about this time that news stories were circulating about Osama bin-Laden having kidney failure, being on dialysis in some cave in Pakistan. My own theory was that he had at one time told someone he had a sore back, and that complaint morphed into kidney disease and renal failure and so forth.

While examining the Taliban detainees for their kidney complaints, I would examine their genitalia. As often as not I would find they had stuffed some toilet paper up their urethras. The story was, they pray five times a day, and they must be clean when they pray (they were going through inordinate amounts of bottled water cleaning themselves); and they are not clean if they have urine on them; so, after they urinate, to keep the inevitable post-micturition drops from making them unclean, they stuff the toilet paper in their urethra. (What they did before they were detained and didn’t have access to toilet paper or bottled water, I didn’t ask.) I wanted to impress upon them that a few such drops are normal and that it’s unwise to stick anything in one’s urethra. I’ve since forgotten it, but the first sentence I asked an interpreter to teach me in Pashto was the old juvenile aphorism, No matter how much you shake and dance the last few drops get in your pants. It doesn’t rhyme in Pashto; in any case, they were unimpressed.

Soon after I had started work in the BTIF, I got my personal introduction to the need for the ‘rules of war.’ My job, my patients were in the detainee facility; some had been there for a long time, but of course we would intermittently get new ones. We would monitor radios to keep ourselves informed about the local operational scene, and we would occasionally learn in real time of a TIC(Troops In Contact) nearby. Eavesdropping on the radio would allow the slice of a hospital on base, a couple hundred meters from the BTIF, to start getting ready to receive casualties before they got the official word.

One day I learn that the hospital is expecting enemy casualties, so I walk over to get a fresh look at the guys who are destined to become my patients (and maybe lend a hand if needed). I admit I have some prejudices. Aside from their generally awful conduct toward both us and the civilian population, I’d learned of Taliban here who have been married before, but are not now, as they took battle brides. Say what? The deal is, they come upon a female in the course of their combat, and they rape her. Then they tell her three times, I divorce you! So, the act of rape was actually just consummating their ‘marriage,’ and it ended with the declaration of divorce, so there was no sin. What twisted son of a bitch does that? I mean if you’re a scumbag rapist, just own it.

While I’m waiting around the ER for their arrival, I learn that in the action just concluded, a couple of our Marines have been killed. As I look about me the idea that a number of young American service personnel like those I see around the hospital have just been killed, is pissing me off, and I am experiencing the frame of reference that includes theEnemy. I am not kindly disposed, and I marvel at how soldiers in the field are able to restrain themselves enough while their blood is up to take prisoners after those same enemies have just killed some of their comrades.

Soon, the Enemies arrive restrained on stretchers; they have unimpressive non-life-threatening wounds so there is no frenzy of activity. I am staring at one the Taliban, and my anger begins to subside, because this guy is not very formidable. He looks like he’s about 17, maybe 120 pounds tops, trying to grow a wisp of a beard. It’s clear that he’s afraid. He sees me giving him the greasy eyeball and he looks embarrassed, gives me a tiny wave of his hand and a brief hint of a shy smile. By now my emotions have whipsawed across the spectrum; this enemy combatant is just a kid. Bad things could have happened had I been in a position to do harm while guided only by emotion. We medical types are fortunate to be able to fall back on our professionalism to act properly. For soldiers, training, discipline, and the rule of law are essential to waging war correctly; correct war sounds like an oxymoron, but it couldn’t be more true.

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----- Original Message -----

From

Date Mon, 11 Jul 2005 06:54:27 +0400

Subject afghan update 4

hola,

plenty excitement here today. four badasses escaped this morning; arab al-qaeda types, so the whole place is locked down. since i live about 40 yards from the hole they made/dug whatever, i'm glad to see all the fuss. no chow for anybody, mess hall locked down. buddy system to go to the potty, unless you want somebody breaking the door of your porto-john open and pointing his m16 at you while you're on the throne.

i cannot imagine how the hell they managed to escape, but then again these guys have nothing but time to try to figure a way out. guess you never know how good your measures are until they're really tested.

this must not be classified in any way since the giant voice keeps announcing it to EVERYBODY in bagram every 15 minutes, but maybe don't forward this to the newspapers any time soon....

we non-trigger pulling types are just sitting around waiting for whatever happens next. i offered to check out the gym so i got my workout in. no escapees there (although it was strange unlocking/opening the door to a dark building, even with my weapon in hand. hmmm, with hindsight, probably shoulda done the buddy system for the gym...).

maybe this means no sick call this morning. four fewer patients! unless they get tuned up when they get caught.

much concern among the folks i work with, as you can imagine. aside from having your people hurt by detainees, this is pretty much the worst case scenario for them.

i'll keep you updated. i'm gonna find out if i can take a shower somewhere secure.

cya,

brian

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----- Original Message -----

From

Date Fri, 15 Jul 2005 14:52:53 +0400

Subject afghan unclassified

howdy y'all,

well it doesn't look like we're going to re-capture those guys who escaped. i see our bagram 'early release program' was on jay leno, even robert deniro was commenting. anyway, since they're no longer detainees, their confidentiality is not protected by the geneva conventions, so i am at liberty to tell you about them.

you should watch out for these four who escaped (i saw two of them as patients by the way):

Graabir Boubi (also wanted for plain old criminal molestation crimes); Haid D'Salaami; M'Balz Es-Hari, (i can say, truly); and I-bin Pharteen. Pharteen is a spooky murderer, a real silent but deadly type.

Interestingly, there were a bunch of guys in the cell who didn't escape when the four did. One was Pharteen's cousin, Hous-Bin Pharteen. Weird guy, always looking around trying to look innocent, protesting he's incarcerated unjustly, looking for someone else to blame. Another stay behind was I-Zheet M'Drurz, high strung cowardly incontinent type, practically left skid marks trying to get way to the back of the cell when the MPs were searching. He was associated with the Chechen dirty bomb. A couple other guys i don't know well at all are Shaif Hirboush and Al-Suq Akweer.

Mustaf Herod Apyur Poupr is a real rigid, humorless guy; he doesn't move well and I'm not surprised he didn't climb out.

There are four other guys who didn't go, they always stick together, so if one wanted to stay they all would. Awan Afuqya, Yul Strokheet Al-Wauch, Apul Madeek-Aoud, and last, Yuliqa M'Diq (AKA Uwana M'Diq, AKA Usuqa M'Diq). I just try to stay away from these guys, they have a strange way about them.

Well there you have the inside poop. Plenty more where they came from.

More to follow tomorrow.

All the best,

Brian

Yes it’s completely stupid and juvenile, but that’s the email I sent. It’s embarrassing and reflects some questionable judgement. If you didn’t read closely enough or try to pronounce the names aloud I’m sure that if you go to YouTube and search for Robert DeNiro on Saturday Night Live you can save yourself the trouble.

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----- Original Message -----

From

Date Sat, 16 Jul 2005 19:39:39 +0400

Subject afghan update 5

hello all,

live from bagram, it's saturday night! seriously now....

those guys are still at large and may well remain so. for a while we all were supposed to carry our weapons during PT (pretty silly looking), and were supposed to have a buddy to watch our weapon while we showered. c'mon now. led to plenty of jokes about rubber holsters, etc. a recipe for losing a weapon; much safer for all to leave your weapon secured in your hooch. today those measures have past, for which i am grateful.

a few days ago went on a convoy to kabul, escorting the principal visitor, a female O6 MP from a new office back in the pentagon trying to help coordinate all this policing and security hand-offs here (and in iraq too i think). we went through this pass where the soviets used to get chewed up by the locals. our guys get shot up there too sometimes, but not my convoy. i was just along for the ride, to offer some medical support just in case. we ended up going to a graduation ceremony for a couple hundred afghan national police. i keep getting to be right place right time for some very interesting stuff. and since i have rank, the afghans drafted me into handing out some of