Memoirs of an Outlaw: Life in the Sandbox

Chapter 28: Communication

I would have to say that the most important thing that was needed to successfully complete our mission in Iraq was not our training, weapons, or LAVs; instead, it was the mail, e-mail, and phone calls. These forms of communication were the tools we needed to keep morale high and get us through the day. It was our key to the outside world.

Mail, a.k.a. snail mail, was probably the least-used but most-wanted method to stay in touch with our friends, family, and loved ones. There were a couple of problems with it, though. Letters and packages took at least two weeks to get to us from the States. Care packages with food in them were susceptible to the heat and being crushed, ruining some of the snacks inside.

There was also the danger of its being blown up on the ride to our base. There was one instance that got our blood boiling. The mail usually came at around the same time every day. Headquarters Platoon would send a couple of Humvees over to Camp Fallujah to bring Captain Shepard to his meetings with the higher-ups and to pick up supplies and the mail that was waiting for us.

On one particular day, when the small entourage came back from their daily run, Sergeant Jibson was empty handed. We were furious and wanted to know why there wasn’t anything. He informed us that on the way up to Camp Fallujah, one of the mail trucks had been hit by an IED, and the mail inside was destroyed. How dare the insurgents mess with our mail! The anger radiating from everyone was felt in the air and could be seen as each platoon went out on their daily patrol. We wanted to get revenge; we wanted to show what happened when they messed with our mail. Unfortunately, or fortunately for them, we never found anyone to pick a fight with, and the anger level subsided over the next few days. It never happened again, so I am guessing the insurgents realized that it might not have been a good idea to hit mail trucks.

The beauty of regular mail was the sense of connection with the writer. It felt more personal. Some guys would get mail that was sprayed with their loved one's perfume or body spray. They would walk around the hooch and let everyone get a whiff and be envious. The other great thing was the care packages. If someone ever wants to do something for the troops and make their day, send them a care package loaded with food and magazines. It’s the ultimate gift and something that will be put to good use. My family would send me some of the best care packages loaded with beef jerky, candy, Pringles, and magazines. In addition, they had friends who would send me packages too. One church from Brooklyn sent over one hundred boxes filled with an assortment of snacks and treats that I handed out to my whole company. Some company must have thought we didn’t wash our clothes, so they sent us fifty boxes filled with boxes of Tide. Gunny Zenoni, Weapons Platoon Sergeant, had his father send us out T-shirts from Miller Light with our company name on it and a cool design on the back. The items we received were all greatly appreciated and sorely needed.

E-mail and the internet were the next greatest things. When we first arrived at Baharia, the internet center wasn’t set up, so we could only get in touch with everyone via snail mail. After the initial assault on Fallujah, it was up and running, with two rooms devoted to the computers and one set up for satellite phones. It was our savior and brought much joy with it. However, it had its drawbacks.

The biggest problem was that it was shut down from time to time. If the battalion was going on a major mission, they would shut down the center so no one could pass the information on to his family. It wasn’t that they were worried that families would give us away, but if insurgents were smart enough to be able to intercept an e-mail with important material, they could seriously put a damper on a mission. Also, when a Marine or Sailor passed away, they would keep it closed until the family was notified by the military; they didn’t want the family to hear it from an outside source. The least common reason was someone getting caught sending vital information. There was only one instance of this, and because of it, they shut the whole center down for a week. Some guy from the infantry battalion we were sharing the base with had sent information to his family about the mission they were about to go on, the time they were going and details of the route—probably not the brightest thing to do.

Even with all the setbacks and closings, it was still our place of gathering. At any given time during the day, I would see a bunch of Marines lined up outside chatting away, waiting for their turn to use a computer. Sometimes it would take up to an hour just to get a turn. After the higher-ups noticed the popularity of the center, they began imposing time limits on how long a Marine could be on it—twenty minutes. When they realized the time limit didn’t stop the huge lines, they decided to make it open for about eighteen hours a day. I would usually go there in the early morning right after a patrol or in the late evening to avoid “rush hour” traffic.

In my opinion, one of the greatest improvements they made was to section off an area for game play. They loaded twelve computers up with the video game Counter Strike and designated one of the rooms just for that. It was a game we could play against each other in tournaments. We would wait in line for hours just to get thirty minutes of game time. Some of us would go inside to watch the others play, coach them, or figure out their game style to beat them when it was our turn. It was our very own arcade room and a great place for friendships.

The phones were a little less popular but a great privilege nonetheless. On my first deployment overseas, we had phones on the ship; however, the wait time was ridiculous, and it cost almost two dollars per minute. People would go broke calling home for thirty minutes. We were a bit more fortunate in Iraq. A company that dealt with the military had set up satellite phones for us that cost only five cents a minute, a drastic change from the two dollars we expected. There were six of the phones in the internet center, and we had special codes to use them. The codes were linked to an account with the company that set up the phones. Whenever we ran out of minutes, we could go on the internet and refill them. After a few months being deployed, the platoon commanders decided that we were allowed to use their handheld satellite phones at certain times of the day. This was an amazing benefit because it allowed us to save time standing in long lines at the internet center; however, we only got about ten minutes to call compared to twenty minutes at the internet center.

The only drawbacks to the phones were the wait time to use them and the delay time in speaking. Since the voice had to travel thousands of miles back home via satellite, there was a delay in talking, which was annoying at first but something we got used to. We couldn’t speak at the same time as the person we called, or it would get all jumbled. We had to wait about five seconds before our voice reached the recipient and then another five for the response to come back. Sometimes the satellites wouldn’t be working, so the call would just cut off and waste valuable call time. However, the phones were a blessing and a much-needed amenity.

All of these communication devices were what kept us mentally alive and well in Iraq. They provided good news and bad. They helped us along when we were down and brought smiles to our faces when we needed it the most. Without them, I don’t know what we would have done or how well we would have completed our missions.