One Soldier's Experience

Balancing the Need To Know

Camp Lancer Weblog is challenged by two kinds of need to know: public concerns and private concerns. As a concerned citizen, you come here for stories that help you understand the nature of our soldiers work. And that's a good thing. But in the balance between transparency -- making things clear -- and operational security -- OPSEC -- opsec weighs heaviest, as it should.

We are in a global war on terrorism. The terrorists -- people who work to keep their people disconnected from the world community -- could come to this site with a hope to find exploitable information. And that's a bad thing.

We want to know, we need to know. Appropriately, accurately, and timely. Let's figure out how to do that, shall we?

"Proud to be an American"

"Thank You"

I attended CPT Hans Kurth's funeral in Columbus, Wisconsin this past Saturday. I'd like to take a moment to pass along the story of tremendous support and tribute that was given in memory of a great American. The Madison, WI newspaper reported that 500 people attended the funeral in the Columbus High gym; I'd estimate the number closer to 700 or 800. This included between 30 and 35 who were in Hans' class at West Point. A group of eight NCOs from Fort Leonard Wood provided the funeral detail and full military honors. After the funeral in the gym, the casket was transported to the cemetery around 2 miles away. The city and county police departments, fire departments, and other volunteers blocked all traffic along the route through the main street in Columbus. In honor of Hans, the town hung dozens of American Flags from light posts. A large crane suspended a massive 60’ American flag over the funeral procession’s route. The local citizens of Columbus lined the street waving goodbye to Hans with smaller American Flags and signs reading “Proud to be an American,” and “Thank You.” The uniformed police saluted, the firefighters uncovered, boy scouts issued their salute, and citizens placed their hand over their heart as the casket passed their location.

After having just returned from a 12 month tour in Iraq myself, the support this American town gave to Hans made me feel proud and reassured of our mission. For all you serving in harms way in Iraq, please know there are thousands of stories of support for what you are doing just like this one in Columbus, WI.

When the procession reached the cemetery, Brig. Gen. Steven Hawkins presented Hans’ mother with the flag from the casket. The bugler sounded taps and the firing squad volleyed several shots to contribute to the finality of the memorial for Hans. We finished the ceremony by singing the West Point Alma Mater. The following verse from this song applies to Hans Kurth and his legacy:

And when our work is done,
Our course on earth is run,
May it be said, 'Well Done;
Be Thou At Peace.'

Captain W. Scott Todd, USMA 1998

Source: Comment to "Jodi L. Brehmer: Hans"

Today I rest

I woke up this morning wanting to write something about peace.
But, the house is quiet now, as I am the only one awake.
And I just want to sit in silence
As house does, with a quiet mind.

Ouside my window (we live on a rocky shoreline)
A gusty wind I can only hear
Makes understanding the flow
Tricky.

Ebb tide or flow tide?
I'm not able to read what I see.
I could go to the refrigerator
And look at the tide table.

But what fun would that be?

Tomorrow, tomorrow
I will write about peace.
(She will come to me in the night)
Goddess that she is.

Difficult moments with faith

Last night, as I was working on the checklist for Camp Lancer Weblog, I received this brief note from Tom Barnett:

My Dad is going to leave in the next few hours, and I am going to miss him very much. He raised and supported seven children into adulthood, losing two in their very early years. He was an enormously patient man, full of humility.He always went out of his way to help others, and never sought credit for himself. He was terribly shy in his personality, but somehow endeavored all his years to befriend others and to engage in the sort of small talk that left those around him always feeling better about themselves. He taught me many things along the way: how to catch a football, how to think ahead, and how to get through difficult moments with faith. I feel very fortunate to have known this man for 41 years. I would have taken more, but this was more than most receive, and for that I thank both him and God. He will always remain to me the man I hope someday to be.

To Tom and John Aleksander,

I never met your fathers,
But their blood runs through our instrument
And their song is in our soul.

And they leave us a legacy
We continue to imagine.

This world can be whole.

~ Critt

Camp Lancer Weblog Updates

This weekend, I'm going to make this blog a little easier to use. One thing on my checklist is to add email notification for new posts. Simply, if you are on the list, you'll receive new Camp Lancer Weblog posts in your email.

If you would like to be notified of new posts, please send me an email requesting to be put in the list.

Thanks,

Critt

Postscript: Gallery for Photgraphs

Postcript: When sending photos, please identify the subject as best you can. Thanks,

In the meantime, from Maikel Steur: Ar Rumaytaha resulted in a beautiful series; and Maikel, Michiel and Arend combine their work on Thursday in Iraq.

Adam Curry: The void in Iraq

In February, while Adam Curry was visiting with his Dutch countrymen in Iraq, he shared the following:

I also learned something very important today: context.

Ever since the war broke out I've been following the news, like anyone else, but there is a large disconnect in the BigPub press about the mission the dutch troops have here. As a part of SFIR (Stabilization Forces IRaq), they are responsible for supporting and guiding the population in rebuilding their country. An important note here is that the damage done in As Samawah (the area we are in) is mainly due to 35 years of supression by the saddam regime.

Now it is March, and upon reflection Adam writes:

I've seen first hand what work is being doen in Iraq by the dutch troops, and although a different and much less hostile region than near Bagdad, I spoke to enough iraqi citizens in the province of Al Mutana to know that there is a great appreciation for the coalition ending Saddam's regime and for facilitating the rebuilding of their country. Assuming there is indeed a void that has been created, folks certainly are happier. Not necessarily worse off.

I'd like to know what these people think.

That's our job...

...get up in the middle of the night to find the bad guys

21 Mar 2004, 1615 hours.

Someone tried to lie to us this morning. Big mistake. The Outlaws left the wire this morning, and we have a terrible itch to scratch. It was a simple, important mission. Conduct a foot patrol along a certain route to clear it of roadside Improvised Explosive Devices and identify any personnel attempting to plant one. I was on Ready 5 with a Hummer, in case any vehicle support was necessary. The mission began in the early hours of the morning, while the innocent ones rest, and the demons of the night stir the dust beneath their feet. The mosque's broadcast prayer songs over multiple loudspeakers about 2 hours before sunrise. The ill voiced, tone deaf priest's shriek is inescapable. Attempts to tune it out are futile. I honestly have tried to tolerate it, but the noise is grating. The time after the morning prayer stops is tense, nervous, and solemn. I positioned the vehicle at a point where I could see the location of the patrol, without giving warning of its presence to evil doers. The prayer songs stopped over the loudspeaker, I told my soldiers to be quiet. It was pitch black, a slow wind broke the tension. We saw the headlights of an approaching car from the South, it was heading toward the location of the patrol to the North. It was thirty minutes after curfew ended, this car was authorized to be on the road. I saw the four ways flash on the car as it stopped under the commands of the patrol leader. From the distance we were at, we could not see what was transpiring. Our mission did not involve direct fire support or observation. We waited. Then the radio crackled. Two personnel were in custody, one AK-47 with two magazines had been confiscated. My driver fired up the Hummer and we rolled into action to pick them up.

The car's driver lied, he said that there was no weapon in the car. But the search revealed that the passenger was sitting with a loaded AK-47 held between his knees, at the ready. Bad idea. As we approached the patrol, silhouettes began to form in the head lights. The lead security element first, weapons trained in their sectors. Then came the two detainees on their knees facing into the black void of the desert. My Platoon Sergeants profile is unmistakable, and my LT was standing with the AK-47 in his hands. We passed through the patrol, turned around and positioned the vehicle for pick-up of the detainees. I took custody of the AK-47 and two magazines. I cleared the weapon and immediately noticed how clean and well maintained it was; a sign of a warriors pride. The detainees were searched, zip-cuffed, and loaded onto my Hummer. I used my trusty Surefire Z-3 Combatlight with P91 headlamp assembly to check the back of the vehicle during my walk around before rolling. Out of the darkness, my light made contact with the face of a detainee. His eyes were cold and dark like a shark about to feed. I felt adrenaline rush through my veins, blood rushed through me. I had his weapon in my right hand. I imagined how easy it would have been to lower the light and have his AK-47 pointed at his nose. But I just stood there emotionless, staring back. Why was he sitting in the passenger seat of a car driving on a road next to my FOB at 0430 hours with a clean, loaded, automatic machine gun between his knees? We took him to FOB Lancer and turned him over to S-2, Intelligence. I headed back to our cell block. The soldiers were excited about the find, one told me that it was worth getting up for. The energy surrounding us during the after action review was almost tangible. That's our job, get up in the middle of the night to find the bad guys. So, how long do we have to do this?

Philip S. Jarvis
SSG, USA
Section Leader

The Chain of Command Provides

20 Mar 2004 2200 hours

We saw the Bushmasters today. They came to our camp this time, entering into our void. It is hard to believe that it has only been five days since we had the ceremony on Omaha for CPT Kurth. The Outlaws Platoon were in formation inside of the aircraft hangar when the Bushmasters arrived. They rode in the back of open top trucks that stopped in clear view of the Outlaws. LTC McClellan, CSM Sanders, CPT Holbrook, and 1SG Jacobs (The Command teams from 1/7 FA) have clearly shown, through their actions, that the Outlaws are part of the 1/7 FA family. From the moment they arrived at the scene of the KBR site accident, until the final moments of the memorial ceremony, taking care of the Outlaws have been foremost on their minds. That was the chain of command that stood before us in the ceremony, and shook my hand afterwards. 1SG Jacobs sat at Pops bedside throughout the night of the accident, holding his hand and consoling him. No Outlaw was ever alone, someone was always there; trying to ease their suffering. I felt as though I was looking at anyone else I have never known when I saw the 1/18 Infantry. The Commander for Bravo Company introduced himself to the platoon. It was surrealistic to listen to him, I believe his name was CPT Arnold. He has got some huge boots to fill. I do not know what Bravo is going through without CPT Kurth, I only know how I feel. I would have followed that man anywhere...period. Everyone else is just plain second. CPT Holbrook, my Company Commander, is outstanding. He listens, he stands by his men in the face of adversity, and he is passionate. He said exactly the right things today. He spoke very emotionally about his fallen brothers during the service, he was the most moving of the speakers. I would have made it through the day without crying, but he found all the right words. "I hope heaven is ready, they have a couple of hell raisers going up there. It has been about 30 days since they have had a beer. God is going to have his hands full for a couple of weeks". I cannot tell you how much Pops and Laramore are loved by the members of this Platoon. Both of them played hard, and worked harder. Pops had the cleanest, deadliest M249 SAW (machine gun) in the Task Force. Laramore could see through the shroud of bullshit, get to the point, and find a solution for any challenge he faced. They were loyal to their friends, to their families, and to the Outlaws. Neither can ever be replaced. Those two guys were very special, and I do not mean that in a "they just died so I am reaching for emotional words to use" kind of way. I was at a Superbowl party in Germany the weekend before our deployment here. It was 0300 when the half time show came on. I looked across the room and saw Pops walk through the door. We drank a few beers, shot a little tequila, and promised to watch each others back in Iraq. You had to be there, to look in his eyes, to know that he absolutely meant it when he said he had your back. I will always remember.

In 4 hours we have our first patrol since the accident . I am going to take a cat nap. Good night.

Philip Jarvis
SSG, USA
Section Leader

Jodi L. Brehmer: Hans

a renewed sense of honor and pride

Hello - I just finished reading everyone's comments and stories and am filled with a sense of comfort knowing that Hans touched so many people's lives. I am not a childhood friend or a family member, but someone who loved Hans deeply. I only knew him for a year a half, but I know that I will carry his memory and a smile in my heart forever feeling blessed to have known him as I did.

I am stationed in Tikrit with the 67th Combat Support Hospital and had the opportunity to see Hans the Monday before he died. It was a short reunion because he was out on patrol and had just swung by to say hello. I even took his picture standing there in all his gear just to prove that he was real. If I had known then what I know now, I don't think I would have said or done anything differently and I find peace in that. I can tell you he looked tired, but you could still see the sparkle in his eyes; he was so focused and motivated to be patrolling his new sector. He vowed to help "keep the boogeyman away" from those of us who are on FOB Speicher and I told him that he and his guys were allowed to stop by anytime as visitors, not as patients. I wish now that they would have had the choice.

I just wanted to tell you another version of what happened on 13 Mar 04. I could never know what happened out there on that cold morning even though my mind tries to play it over again and again and tries to fill in the gaps. So I will tell you from my perspective as the close friend and nurse who received that awful call.... I remember it was early in the morning when I heard a knock on our door and somebody yelled in "MASCAL". My friend and roommate, Laura, and I had just gone to sleep a few hours before and it didn't quite register in our brains. The second knock made us jump to our feet and throw our shoes on. I can remember running to the hospital and hearing Laura say, "This better be real" as we had had quite a few MOCK ones in the past. I replied, "God, Laura, you better hope it's not." I know now she regrets even thinking it.

I arrived in the ICU and helped get extra beds set up and waited for word on how many patients were coming and what their injuries were. The rumor mill had already begun churning and there was talk of the casualties being from 1/18. I tried to ignore it and not think the worst. I don't remember what time it was when my hospital commander and Chaplain walked onto the ward, but I remember feeling this dull ache in my gut when I realized they were walking towards me. They said I had a phone call from Hans' unit and I should come with them to the TOC. We ended up having to call back due to the phone connection getting cut but the soldiers on the other line didn't know anything about a phone call. It was then that the Chaplain said some of the patients seen in the ER were asking how their commander was and that they were worried about him. Nothing could be confirmed or denied, so I numbly walked back to the ICU to wait. I don't clearly remember the events of the rest of the morning, only that one of my coworkers had received a phone call from her husband asking if I was okay. He is in a different unit, but had heard the news. That's about the time I felt this tremendous ache in my chest and knew in my heart it was true. Hans was gone. Our commander kept saying that nothing was verified yet and not to believe it until it was, but even she knew that there wasn't any hope left.

The rest of the day is pretty much a blur - I spent a lot of time with close friends and the Chaplain and hung out in the Chapel late into the night trying to accept what I had heard. Even now it all feels surreal. I later spoke with SPC Press who was with Hans at the time and he was able to give me an idea of what happened, but even his accounts were fuzzy. I guess shock and disbelief will do that to a person. LT Crawford came by the next day to see me and it really helped to see a friendly and familiar face from the unit. We laughed and I cried when we shared some memories about Hans, particularly his stinky infantry feet and clever sense of humor :)

That Monday, I was honored to attend the memorial service for Hans and SPC Ford at Camp Omaha. It's a feeling that is hard to describe - being there to witness the discipline and unspoken love and respect that every last soldier portrayed. I always used to joke with Hans that his "tough love" with his soldiers and his love of the Court Martial system might one day come back to bite him when he least expected it, but I understand now that tough love is exactly what every soldier needs. Hans never cowered behind his guys letting them do all the dirty work; he was out in front leading the way and showing them that hard work, determination, and digging deep into their souls to build up their honor and integrity was the best way of showing them how much he loved them. And he did love them. I can understand that now and know that maybe it took his death to help us realize how much he has inspired every single one of us to become better people, soldiers, brothers, and sisters. People do come into our lives for a reason and although his time here on Earth was brief, his spirit and inspiration will forever be burned into the hearts of those who met and knew him.

I was blessed to have the opportunity to come back to the states to attend Hans' funeral. I was able to attend the memorial service in Schweinfurt and it was breathtaking. There wasn't a dry eye or an empty seat in the Chapel that afternoon. The support from the folks in the rear was astounding and continues to grow. I personally am looking forward to getting back to Tikrit - especially now that I have a deeper pride in the comraderie and such an emotional tie to be there. Ever since the 1 ID soldiers set foot in Iraq, there has been a renewed sense of honor and pride in what we as the 67th CSH are there to do. These soldiers are our brothers and sisters, and we want them all to know that we are here to support and care for them with all that we have and all that we are. I know this has been a long winded email, but it feels good to get it out there. I will leave you with a great quote that somebody wrote on our hospital information board the day Hans and SPC Ford died....

.....

"Life has a certain flavor for those who have fought and risked all that the sheltered and protected can never experience." John Stuart Mill

I miss you and love you, Hans.You will always be my SMF.

Love,

Your SLF

[ Jodi L. Brehmer is a nurse with the 67th Combat Support Hospital. John F. (Hans) Kurth was killed by an IED while on patrol in Iraq, March 13, 2004. ]