Words, war and the Web

Decades from now, when historians examine the current conflict in Iraq, they will have a primary research source unique to our times: the military blog, or milblog. Blog is short for Web log, where a person routinely posts personal perspectives online. Milblogs are blogs that are written by our men and women in the armed forces.

The world has never before been invited to delve this directly into the heart and mind of the U.S. soldier. Milblogs are posted literally seconds after the thoughts are typed on a keyboard, sometimes moments after returning from combat. I've gone through a host of gritty, poignant, sometimes profane and often wry milblogs, and I'm encouraged by how close to the bone they are.

The milblog serves in a utilitarian sense, as well, as direct communication to family members. How great is it to return from a particularly terrifying mission and inform loved ones that you're safe? And when it comes to long-term value, these blogs remain priceless. Think about it: In every other war, we've most often received a sense of soldiers' impressions as filtered through journalists (or via letters, a delayed process). Now, the point of view -- whether you find it gripping, unsettling or both -- arrives in real time.

There are reservations. I fear that the milblog, like 24-hour cable coverage, might desensitize the realities of war. If you can read about it on your laptop just like you read sports scores, is it really dangerous? Is it even real?

But that's of secondary concern. Back when I served in the Middle East, I would have blogged. I'd have called it an existentialist's milblog, a tool to communicate with those I'd left behind, the world I'd left behind, which I would someday attempt to re-enter. Read the edited excerpts of blogs on these pages, and you'll see that there's more than a bit of existentialist in every soldier
USA Weekend

1st Lt. Rusten Currie
Currie, 34, of Venice, Calif., is an intelligence officer.
From his blog: Yesterday I came face to face with an IED (improvised explosive device). As we passed by, the driver saw a glint of metal in the trash-strewn road. It lay there barely visible. Yet it was the only thing I could see.

We cordoned off the area and kept the civilians away. Spectators began to gather. I felt as if we were on a stage and everyone was looking at us. The on-scene commander called, and help was on the way. Until then, we were to wait on top of the weapon -- uncertain if the man who was to detonate it was amongst the onlookers, uncertain if an attack was to come at us. As the temperature rose, so did the tension. Like a symphony, we moved with precision to our assigned positions. I was on a rooftop observation post, with an SPR (special purpose rifle).

This weapon has a scope that can engage targets (threats) up to 500 yards away. I ranged each open window, alleyway, door frame, parked car and other points of reference. I set up my position. Then I waited. As the minutes passed, the heat rose. The thermometer read 126. Eye strain and muscle cramps from dehydration began to set in, and the weapon became hot on my cheek.

I tried to control my breathing. I bit my lip, drawing blood. I was certain I had seen a weapon in the window; I clicked off safe on my weapon and prepared to engage the threat. Blinking rapidly, I got the sweat removed from my eye, and the stinging stopped. Just as I was exhaling, I got a clear picture of the room. It was a woman nursing a child, looking out to see what we were doing. I put the weapon back on safe and stepped off the gun.

The demolition team arrived to blow up the IED. Soldiers screamed for civilians to back off. The signal came: "FIRE IN THE HOLE, FIRE IN THE HOLE!!!"

The blast was louder than anything I have heard since I have been in Iraq. We were less than a football field away. Windows broke. Dishes fell. Slowly, I picked myself up. People began to re-emerge from around corners, from behind cars and from locked doors. Finally, we were given the "all clear."

I was reminded why I am here with a smile from a child. I patted my partner in the helmet. We moved to the gate. "Friendly coming out!" we shouted. As we rolled out, I looked at where the IED had been. The metal was contorted and charred, representing what could have been. Shaking it off, I drank cold water, and drank and drank and drank."
Centurion

Sgt. Cinnamon Wilkinson
Wilkinson, 36, of Mauriceville, Texas, is a combat medic and nurse.
From her blog: I'm living in a tent with all of my closest friends. Imagine yourself as a child, sharing your room with your brother or sister. Now, take that lovely image and multiply that sibling by 20 at least. Now you can imagine it here in our tent.

As one soldier wrote: In order to prepare yourself for deployment, take your sleeping bag and put it on the cement in your garage. Then invite the whole neighborhood to come over with their sleeping bags and join you in your garage. Don't forget to have them bring at least two bags of clothes, also. At that point, you will get some idea of what we go through when we first get here. Yippee, huh?

Obviously, when you go for showers, you think that would be enjoyable. Well, it is if you like 15-plus females in one small trailer bidding for eight possible working showers. The only way to get a relaxing shower is to pick very odd hours to go.

Nothing can describe the feeling you get when you go to the showers to find them empty. Walk to your favorite shower like a queen on the red carpet. Set your towel up. Set your supplies up in the shower. Step inside the shower with great anticipation. You reach for the water knob, turn it -- and nothing. Did I forget to mention that they turn the water off during most of the day to conserve water? Well, they forgot to tell me!!!

And that is how my day went ... "
A Female Soldier

Capt. John Upperman
Upperman, 37, of Round Rock, Texas, is a battalion logistics officer with the Texas Army National Guard.
From his blog: Some of the soldiers in our unit get together with local villagers for soccer. They are very passionate about the sport. They began playing at a young age and follow their favorite teams. The Iraqis are really good at this sport, so we usually take a shellacking. (They even loaned us some guys in order to even the odds.)

They beat us playing bare-footed. Because most of these guys grew up without any shoes, they can tolerate just about anything. It wouldn't surprise me a bit to see one of them walk over a bed of hot coals.

Regardless of the score, I think both sides won."
Uppermans blog

Cpl. Maria Saucedo
Saucedo, 25, of Damascus, Md., is a Marine working in supply administration.
From her blog: Most people brush their teeth before going to bed, but out here, the process has become rather exciting. Usually the female evening shower hour has passed by the time I'm ready to dig out the tooth-cleaning tools, so I end up brushing just outside our living container compound.

There is always beautiful spring-like weather in the evenings, except instead of birds chirping, we listen to helicopters and C-130s flying around in the dark. Sometimes we see people shooting bright-red tracer rounds, and other times we hear convoys firing off their weapons to make sure they are working properly. One night we saw two explosions that were somewhere far off in the distance.

Two nights ago, a friend and I played tic-tac-toe in the sand. I got bit by ants that were probably chowing down on the leftover toothpaste we spit all over the place. I always feel like a cat, because we spit and then kick sand over it, like covering up in the litter box."
http://akinoluna.blogspot.com/