6) L' Opera Dall' Autore: From Ramsey To Bush - The U. S. Led Coalition (Epistle) From An African American Business Journal Poem by Otradom Pelogo

L'Opera Dall'Autore

From Ramsey to Bush: The US Led Coalition


Ironically enough, while working in Iraq, doing twelve hour shifts on and twelve hours off, besides editing one of my books with the seven hours left after a restless five hour nap, reading, like in the past, again, became my second passion. So I read mostly on nation-building (which is somewhat of a sociological, political and economic profile of an event) and the post-war affair; how it should and shouldn't work; it made for an incredibly interesting and enlightening time in North Africa / The Middle East. And time trying to fulfill that promise that we all make, of what we would do if ever having any extra money left over after paying the bills, which is to invest some of it.

So the other half of the reading time was spent on reading the investing books and journals from the BXs and PXs overseas. The magazines and books between then and now range from the Money and Smart Money magazines to Kiplinger's Personal Finance Magazine, and to Mary Buffett's Warren Buffett and The Interpretation of Financial Statements. In December of 2003 because of delays in the Middle East, I spent a month long orientation in Houston, Texas before heading on a flight to Kuwait as a truck driver-contractor for the oil exploration company, KBR/Halliburton Co. working alongside of the DOD.

My first job was supposed to be driving a bus that would take the contractor workers like myself to work or even take them shopping in downtown Kuwait. About a week after getting there though, I and a couple of other drivers were talking about what was going on in Iraq. Then we began to wonder and eventually asked around about how they decided who worked where, and how difficult it would be to get transferred to one of the stations in Iraq, although we were given our assignments before leaving Houston. But we shortly found out that all we had to do was ask, and that wish would be granted. It seemed to be one of the places (of course) where there was a need for workers. When first arriving in Houston, for processing and paperwork, they said that they needed about four or five hundred drivers, for various places overseas, especially Iraq. I eventually drove just about everything they had there, from a tanker carrying jet fuel for some of the most lethal weapons ever built, to a water truck. So within a couple of days, just like they said, we were heading across the border into Iraq. Even the trip there was somewhat melodramatic; we could see in the distance some of the oil fields on fire, there was an IED that held us up for a while, but we got to see the latest in mechanical anti bomb robotics and technology, while getting a close-up look at what was going on and what we would be doing.

I started off driving a mail-truck (a tractor-trailer) , delivering the incoming bails of mail to the military and our contractor mail stations. Before boarding the plane heading overseas, reading the papers while sitting there waiting in Houston, it said that some of the convoys, especially the mail trucks were being ambushed by insurgents, where extra military escorts (gun-trucks) had to be added and strategically placed among the convoys carrying mail and other supplies. They started off with just a military escort in front, but the insurgents would wait until the lead escort went by and hit the last trucks in the convoy and take off. Then they began to add more gun-trucks, in the middle and at the end of the convoys. One day, myself and about three or four other guys were called into the office where a person in uniform walked in and began to demonstrate how to use the devices that were already laying on the table when we walked into the room: a 9mm, AK47 and a M16 rifle, in case of an ambush or attack. We were also informed that there could be suicide bombers out there on the routes; cars that would try and get inside of the convoy lines and ignite a bomb. We were told to get them out immediately; and it was pretty obvious, one could tell, of why a car would all of a sudden jump inside of a military escorted convoy.
One day I radioed to the lead CC (Convoy Commander) to let them know that a car had gotten in front of my truck inside of the convoy, I had been somewhere in the middle of about a twenty or so convoy, which was a typical run each day. Then I was told to get them out of the convoy, which basically meant driving them off of the road as soon as possible. We were coming upon a turn that would lead to a different highway, and thus only with seconds left, trying to push this car out of the way, I almost missed my turn, which would have had me probably stuck out there with a group of insurgents trying to blow up a military escorted convoy. Or worse, had half of the convoy sectioned off from the rest of the gun trucks.

I had met a young African American lady at one of the bases one day while we were waiting to head out on a mission with one of the convoys. She was in the army, and seemed about eighteen or nineteen, which is about the average age of our military personnel, and since I had just met her, after a few minutes of talking to her, asked her what did she do? I had taken for granted that she was a shooter. A shooter was a person who sat in the truck with you at random, of course with 9mm and M16 ready to fire back in case of an attack. Ironically enough, she said that she drove The Leviathan, one of the trucks that we were preparing to head out in that day. It was one of the biggest convoys we had been in so far, about 77 trucks long, made up of military and civilian contractor units. I eventually drove one of the military units like she was driving, and it seemed like something out of a World War II movie and felt just as uncomfortable. I almost asked her why hadn't she picked something easier but thought about it before actually saying it, and decided instead, to tell her the story about having driven 950 miles from the Texas New Mexico state border, through the San Bernardino Valley and into Los Angeles in southern California, nonstop, except for fueling, in a truck that had a governor that only allowed it to go between sixty-two and sixty-five mph at the fastest, to try and make the task of truck-driving seem more fun and enjoyable.

I eventually did have a young female shooter (also African American) from Chicago ride with me one day. We talked for a while, and since I was in the midst of writing one of my books, I somewhat interviewed her on the life of working on the front lines. We had a layover in one of the more notorious hot-spots (places where there were more likely to have sniper fire or ambushes) . She told me that she had just come off of duty picking up bodies from one of the more volatile places, later I was told that where we were at, was one of the places that they kept them. She seemed to me, to be and incredibly enlightened person and equally as beautiful. I had a video tape of our conversation, but it eventually got lost somewhere on the computer with the thousands of files that I have. Where we were sitting at, was heavily hit place by the coalition forces, it probably was one of the main targets at the beginning of the war. It was one of the Iraqi bases that was run by ‘Chemical Alley', one of Sadam's commanders that oversaw the chemical weapons part of their military.

One day our convoy, as usual was heading there, to this camp, when we heard that there had just been an ambush on the convoy that had left ahead of us earlier in the day, where that got separated, this was also, besides Fallujah, one of the Hot Spots, where there was likely to be more ambushes and sniper fire,
Usually when something like that would happen, we would get either more support, stop where we were or go on lock down until things were back under control. But being one of the major convoys with heavy support, we ended up going into the camp in the middle of this Hot Spot, where we stayed there for over a week where everything was put on lockdown, which meant just about every house, business and building in the area was forced to close. It was one of the more chaotic spots of course. One of the soldiers on duty told me, when just stopping to talk for a while; it's one of the things that those there do, a quick and cordial conversation in passing, that they had just had a drive-by about three o'clock in the afternoon, which she thought was pretty ridiculous. With the tracking equipment they have these days, they can just about track them down efficiently in the night as well as in the day time.

I got there a little after the initial war, which of course is called a Post-war. Of course the last three instances are of having talked to female soldiers, who aren't allowed on the front line during a war. So by this time, there are many female military personnel there because of it being the post-war, but ironically enough, the post-war was much worse than the war because of the insurgency that began.
I then drove a shuttle for a while at the coalition headquarters, driving around probably some of the most powerful and enlightened people on earth; men and women who most likely advised people like President George Bush (who was there a couple of times) , Secretary of State Collin Powel, and (and later) Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, along with the personnel that's there on a regular basis, when the President or Secretary of State isn't around. They said (when reading one of the many books on the event) that it was the greatest coalition put together (most powerful) since Ramsey (the greatest of the pharos. They also said that after all of the weighing, that the ancient Egyptians were one of the great people to pass through our world) and ironically and incredibly enough, the US military, at that particular time, was the only group of people to have surpassed them. So to have been there at that time was to be part of somewhat of a historical moment in history. So you could now try and imagine with all that has happened between Ramsey and Bush, the magnitude of the event and being there.

One morning I woke up and raced to the shuttle to head to work, but realized that I couldn't find the keys to the shuttle, until about an hour or so later, when taking off my shoes and sitting down on the verge of giving up when seeing the silver piece of metal fall out of my shoe, then remembering that's where I had put it the night before as not to misplace it since we were sleeping in the cafeteria on the floor until they had finished building us units to sleep in while we were there. We were first given tents, after moving out of the cafeteria, where a group of people could sleep in, which was great, unless the AC went out, due to being hit late at night by insurgents, where they would have to turn all the lights off. During the day, which would average about 120 to 130 degrees easily, it could easily reach over a 10 degrees inside a twelve man tent within seconds with no AC. I eventually got a unit on side of the air-strip; 24 hours of roaring. The Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders were also there, though I ended up working at that particular time, but I felt it was more for the military guys, more than for the civilian contractor drivers. But one night, while working in a different area, we were all invited to an outdoor concert. There were a couple groups that I was unfamiliar with, but which were really good, where the main attraction was the famous island singer, Don Ho.

I was telling my mom and sister one day, recently, that while there in Iraq, one day I grabbed two American flags out of the BX and put them in my truck, up front in the window, when later, someone walked up to me afterwards and told me that I would have to take them down because it was considered a declaration of war. They had some of the locals work on the bases, though, I thought to myself afterwards, what average citizen would be looking that closely and know that much, which of course raises questions.

Most of the people that worked there, helping the coalition out, horribly enough, weren't Iraqis, because of the insurgents, trying to stop the coalition, would retaliate against anyone who worked with them, including those that lived there. So, this was one of the reasons that US contractors were brought in along with TCNs (Third Country Nationals; people from different countries willing to help out, and thus were given contracts to do certain jobs. I of course didn't take the flags down, until a few days later, trying to explain prudently as I was telling the story to my mom and sister. One day while at work near the trucks being loaded to head out to the different mail stations, I could see two guys walking across the truck yard in my direction, and somewhat knew that they were heading my way and why. And by the way they were dressed (only absent, the tie and jacket) and the solemn look on their faces, that they were most likely from The Coalition Headquarters or the U.S. Embassy, and calmly and politely asked would I take the flags down. I also somewhat knew that it was one of those conversations, at that place and time, with those two gentlemen, that it wasn't truly an issue to debate, and just as quietly and politely said 'Yes'. Some days I would drive the lead unit with a CC in the passenger seat, and each morning we would get briefed by either ‘Mother Goose or Papa Bear', our military advisors for each mission, on what was ahead of us and what to look out for before heading out of the gates. (They were even putting bombs inside of dead animals on side of the road) and the flags didn't seem to raise concern to any of either the military or civilian personnel. But this conversation with the two gentlemen that day, did end the whole affair of the flags and the declaration of war. But I went on to state that a little later on, whether days, weeks or so, I can't truly remember, one of the truckers had put a giant flag on side of his truck, and a little later, that one of the Japanese (military) convoys that was out there with us had put up a flag on their lead gun-truck. And of course later, drivers were starting to put up flags in their trucks from their home states as well as the American flags. (Like all of the in-between stories and events, they're rather long stories) .

I met a an old friend (or rather a young friend) from the area where we grew up in Southeast Texas, who I played football with at the local university, and was able to catch up on what had happened to a lot of the guys that we played with also. I talked a while with a soldier from Buffalo, who was rather friendly, filling me in on some of the things that happens, good as well as bad. And I met a young Romanian Soldier while out on a mission with one of the convoys, we had met at the counter while picking up supplies at one of the BXs, and most likely realizing that I looked like a fan of Braham Stoker, after speaking briefly, show his name tag, which had written on it Vlad, and mentioned Dracula or more formally, Vlad III Dracula ('A Romania night of the sacred order of the Dragon...') . And of courses, believe it or not, there was a unit where I stayed at for the majority of the time that I was there, from my hometown. But I tried to explain to one of the soldiers who had told me, that it had been a while since I had been back home, and I probably knew some of their parents, but doubted if I had met any of them, though we probably road out on several missions together.

Therefore, after getting back home from overseas, I took advantage of the opportunity of the transition of being between jobs and took some time off. I then of course tried to catch up on some things that I had wanted to get to for a while, and did finish the editing of about seven different books that I had been working on for the last twenty years (two of them edited especially for children) , and had them published through two self-publishing agencies (Authorhouse and Lulu) .
After spending too much time on the research and editing of those books, and wanting to take one more overseas trip with the little money I had left, I headed to London, England. One of the days was spent on a ten hour tour of the suburbs of London and Canterbury, and a wine tasting stop at one of the local ancient castles) . And before heading in, driving by Parliament, Thames, and the old CIA building where 007 worked at. Great Britain is one of a few places I think that Americans should visit. The historic English cathedral city, which inspired Geoffrey Chaucer's loved Canterbury Tales and where the murder of Thomas Becket takes place that we enjoyed reading in school, and which is now head of the worldwide Anglican Communion and a place of pilgrimage for Christians worldwide.

Then of course, after getting back, back OTR (over-the-road truck driving) , along with the search for answers, the search for consignees to deliver truckloads of merchandise that ranged from 53' trailers of laundry detergent to what could some of the times contain a million dollar truckload of computer equipment. So the second half of 2006 (after taking some time off after getting back from overseas) ,2007 and through the stock market crash in 2008, was spent over-the-road driving from one end of the country to the other. By this time, I had either spent the extra money I had made while working overseas on staying in different hotels while trying to finish writing and paying bills or other necessities and promised that when I got back, or had gotten to the point where I could take a break (extended) , I would work on the investing portfolio again.