THE WORLD OF MINISTRY IN TIKRIT, IRAQ Operation Iraqi Freeedom

THE WORLD OF MINISTRY IN TIKRIT, IRAQOperation Iraqi Freeedom

by CH (MAJ) Oscar AraucoRaider Brigade Chaplain

1st Brigade, 4th Infantry Division, Tikrit, Iraq

Raider Brigade Chaplain Update, 12 Aug 03.

Boom! The first mortar hit. A moment later, boom, the second enemy mortar exploded the night sky.Later, our radar would determine that the enemy mortars intended for our base camp went over ourheads and landed 300 outside the perimeter. God has kept us safe. Thank you for praying. Boom, boom,boom, our mortars responded. Five times they returned the fire with mortars twice as large as theenemy’s. American soldiers manned their positions. It was time to check on the soldiers. This isministry in combat; this is what Army chaplains do.I donned my flak jacket and kevlar helmet. The first fighting position was on a rooftop. I climbed theoutside vertical stairs in the dark of the night and figured if the young soldiers could do it, I could too.The soldiers were ready with all manner of weapons. I spent time with them. This is not a time forsermons, but encouragement in Christ. A second rooftop position, and a second set of stairs. The allclear sounded.

The next day I went to visit a battalion of infantrymen and tankers. After an orientation at battalionheadquarters, I went to see an infantry company preparing for a raid. The infantry battalion commanderis a godly man and had made it a point to tell me that his battalion’s name was “Regulars, by God.” Ivisited the men, some alone, some in little groups, encouraging them, telling them personally how greatthey were doing, and how proud America is of them. It was an honor to speak to them. One sergeantwas from Atlantic City, New Jersey. For all the mass technology America has, it was now counting onthis young man to lead other American infantrymen the last hundred yards in the raid. He said he didn’tknow what to say when his parents worried about him. I said, tell them not to worry, you’re keepingthem safe. I met the platoon leader, a lieutenant fresh out of college. He would lead these men intocombat. We talked a while, then we prayed together in front of all his men. Then it was time to go, theraid was on. Later that night they would all return safely. Thank you for praying for our soldiers.

We drove back in our three-vehicle convoy, watching for RPG attacks, mines and other explosivedevices. A chaplain does not carry a weapon, but the captain sitting behind me sure did. We saw 100-foot tall, electric power poles that had been destroyed by looters looking for wire. They’d been replacedwith new poles. We saw evidence of past RPG attacks. Iraqi children waved at us, many others justlooked. Our weapons were ready. We returned. God kept us safe, thank you for your prayers.

Tonight is quieter than the last. No enemy mortars tonight, at least not yet. I walked the perimeterchecking on the soldiers on guard. I talked with some, prayed with others. All is quiet tonight; God iskeeping us safe.

Please pray for the soldiers and families of the Raider Brigade, 4th Infantry Division. Thank you.


A soldier died today. It was a sandy road covering an enemy antitank mine. Later on soldiers would tellme it was just another day, just another detail. The commander led his men to the release point asplanned. He pulled over when he got to the sand to let his armored vehicles take the lead, as planned.Ten meters later the mine exploded and the armored vehicle burned on fire.

When I arrived the men were in various stages of disbelief & shock. We gathered around a makeshifttable and they began telling their stories. The men told me how they rushed to pull out their woundedfriend, ignoring other possible mines or the burning fire. They placed him in a makeshift ambulance.One said he’d seen things like this on TV, but never for real. This was not TV anymore. Another talkedabout the soldier’s wife and four children living in northern Texas. Another couldn’t say anything, hejust cried softly. The soldiers remembered their friend’s good humor and goofy comments that cheeredeveryone up. They honored their friend with their pain and grief.

Still, God was not absent in all this. We realized together that close behind the struck vehicle was alighter Humvee carrying seven soldiers. Seven soldiers who would have died were spared because of thesacrifice of the one. A lieutenant had been first on the scene, his driver close behind with a fireextinguisher. They had ignored other possible mines and the fire to try and save this soldier. They wouldleave no man behind.The soldiers talked until there was a lull, then we prayed together. We prayed for our fallen soldier, weprayed for his wife who would soon receive the terrible news. We prayed for his children whose fatherhad died keeping them safe. We prayed thanks for the soldiers spared and their courage. We prayed Godwould keep us safe in the missions ahead. This is ministry in combat.

The soldiers honored their friend who had died so others might live and died keeping his wife andchildren safe. Yet they knew that soon they would have to put their grief aside. The enemy was notgoing away and neither were they. No one, not one soldier asked to quit and go home. They knew onemore thing, that while they may have watched movies, this was not TV anymore. This is war and theyare now indeed, a band of brothers. Tomorrow, there would be more sandy roads to cross. Please prayfor the soldiers and families of the Raider Brigade, 4th Infantry Division. Thank you


A soldier died yesterday; tomorrow we would do a memorial ceremony. Today was about healing andpreparing for tomorrow.

The day started in the unit that suffered the death by landmine. Engineers went out and cleared thelanes. Then the same soldiers, got on their same vehicles, and went to the same location they were goingto yesterday when the enemy’s mine killed their friend. These soldiers got back on the horse, they knewit and the enemy knew it. A terrorist’s landmine would not stop American soldiers.

Yet there was still pain & grief. When they returned a soldier asked the battalion chaplain some specificquestions and the chaplain gave him specific answers. Listen to their conversation, this is ministry in acombat environment.

Soldier: “Chaplain, why do bad things happen to good people?” “I don’t see no justice.” “You try todo the right thing, to be prosperous, when something like this happens, it’s all wrong.”

Chaplain: “This life is a small part of eternity.” “How nice you are is not always a factor.” “Are youready?” “I believe God forgives sin for those who ask for Him.” “God asks, do you have a personalrelationship with me.”

Soldier: “I think I understand.”

Chaplain: “Scripture helps us.” “God understands if you ask why.”

I had told this young chaplain, “You are the spiritual leader of this battalion.” But he didn’t need me todeclare this, it was already true.

Later that night the battalion commander talked to his men. He told them they would honor their fallencomrade and continue to focus on the mission. They would capture or kill the enemy and continue to ridthe Iraqi people of this menace. Those were the enemy’s only two options. This battalion is set up in afactory and pays the Iraqi factory workers their salaries while living in their factory. One Iraqi civilianbrought in a note providing the names of those hiding ammunition and their locations. Later in thedarkness, artillery fire thundered from the base, providing illumination so other soldiers could carry outtheir mission, their mission to capture or kill the enemy.Still later a prisoner called for help. The unit had earlier captured a high ranking Baath party member. Inthe darkness, across some barbed wire, with guards at the ready, we went to see him. The doctorexamined him, thoroughly, professionally. This was the same doctor who had treated the mortallywounded soldier the day before. Another doctor had told me that prisoners needing evacuation forfurther treatment are still kept within the American medical system. The prisoner then asked for aKoran. This is where chaplains come in, performing or in this providing religious support.Meanwhile, in another room the battalion chaplain was writing his prayers for the next day’s memorialceremony.



The day starts off well, at 0500 three sequential raids go off. Today’s raids are surgical in nature,targeting three specific enemy leaders. I’m impressed at the work that goes into each raid. The targetedindividuals are so identified through multiple sources. Intelligence imagery shows the exact three housesin the exact neighborhoods to be raided. We can see the pictures on a big screen in front of us. Thespecific soldiers then train for the specific mission. Then the raids go down. Some are more dynamicthan others. Some are more successful than others.

Today is a good day. By 0700 American soldiers have successfully completed their mission with nocasualties. Two raids capture their intended targets. One raid captures the target’s brother. The brotherled the Americans to another brother who led them to the target. Soldiers also captured weapons andmillions of dinars. These are three less enemy leaders and their assets who will harm Americans or theIraqi people.

Things are not always so dramatic. In one town if an Iraqi is caught breaking curfew, he is detained,screened, and in the morning made to pick up trash along a highway by his hometown. I trust theyappreciate the chance to clean up their own areas.

I got a new roommate today. LTC Beso is of the Georgian Light Infantry and head of the Georgianmilitary contingent is this coalition. He is assigned as a liaison officer to the American forces and iscurrently with our brigade. He was a soldier in the Soviet Army and later an NCO. He then became anofficer in the free Georgia Republic Army. He brings his Georgian soldiers to do infantry patrolling,explosive demolitions, and medical work. I helped get him settled and explained the role of Americanchaplains. He said soon the Georgian military would have chaplains.

Tonight at supper I did some basic counseling. Didn’t plan to do counseling, but an Americaninfantryman needed to talk. So we sat together by a tree, ate, talked, came up with a plan and prayedtogether. He plans to be at chapel service tomorrow. This is ministry in combat and ministry is good.



Today was the Lord’s Day. It started with a visit from the Division Chaplain and his chaplain assistant.We visited, he mentored, I learned. Then in the newly founded Raider Chapel we gathered in a circlewith my chaplain assistant. The four of us held hands, quietly bowed our heads and asked God’sprovision and protection over our soldiers and their families.

Raider Chapel is a former conference room in a former Saddam family palace. Now we’re making itinto a place for soldiers to meet God. On one side we’ve designated a small group area, placing an oddcollection of old overstuffed chairs and an ornate sofa. The middle is the chapel proper with anothermixed breed of old & ornate chairs. We need more chairs, we’ll get some, but work with what we havefor now. There’s no cross or crucifix, at least not yet. The fledging Evangelical community is workingon making a cross for their new Chapel. I’m working with the division priest for the crucifix. Like mostother things around here, we’re making it better.

In the evening we have our chapel service, my first here. The electricity goes out and we finish with acatacomb type communion in the dark. In the darkness, American soldiers pray quietly to God. Theypour out their hearts as soldiers in combat have done for centuries beforehand. After the service asoldier stays behind to talk. He hurts after receiving a Red Cross message from home, someone he lovesis to have surgery soon. We talk and then pray to the God who heals and cares.

In the night a combat patrol gets ready to depart. Brave men go looking in the darkness for the enemy.They ready themselves. The commander gruffly tells them, “If you take in RPGs, lay down a base offire and attack into the (enemy) fire.” Simple instructions for such a deadly mission. He prepares to leadhis men out. I am a chaplain and as they depart I stand by the vehicles, bow my head and raise my armin the darkness imploring God’s blessings upon them. It is an honor to serve my Savior and our soldiersthis way. This is ministry in combat. The patrol leaves on the hunt. I can’t go to sleep, so I wait up forthem. They return in the early morning hours. Then another soldier on the night shift wants to talk. Wego outside and talk in one of the combat patrol vehicles that just returned. We talk, we pray. The Lord’sDay ends. Please pray for the soldiers and families of the Raider Brigade, 4th Infantry Division. Thank you.

Raider Brigade Chaplain Update, 22 August 2003.

Tonight was a night to walk the perimeter. I started at the front gate talking with the sergeant on guard.Somewhere between talking about night jumps over Fort Bragg, trip flares went off west of theperimeter. Later we wondered if a hedgehog or wild dogs had set off the warning devices. The flarescaught our attention; the ensuing gunfire brought us out in force. No hedgehog had fired his rifle. In thedarkness it’s hard to tell if shots without tracers are aimed for you. However, in this fortress of freedomin the midst of enemy territory, we assume all shots are unfriendly. We went to full alert, soldiers lefttheir rooms in hurried battle dress and manned their battle stations.

After awhile there was no immediate attack, so it was time to check the troops in fighting positions onthe rooftops. Up a sturdy ladder here to check on some soldiers. Up a rickety ladder there to check onother soldiers. Back home I would never climb such a ladder at such heights, but we’re not back homeand these American soldiers are well worth seeing. I laid flat on the roof top between riflemenencouraging some. Sat by a machinegun praying with others. I prayed God would keep them safe fromthe arrows that fly by night. On one roof top, intense soldiers sat behind a low wall, their M16 rifles heldready over the wall. A sergeant encouraged them by telling of his dance moves. There was quiet humor

to ease the tension. Sitting among them in the darkness, I was so proud of these soldiers and honored tobe among them. This is ministry in combat. All was quiet; the Middle Eastern stars provided a serenecanopy to our heightened sense of alert. Suddenly tracers lit up the night sky to the south of theperimeter. More gunfire crackled in the southern starlit skies.

I made my way to the southern defensive positions. Tracers had lit the night sky, but the men wereuncertain whether it was aimed at them or up in the air. There is sometimes celebratory fire. Wecelebrated in our flak vests and fighting positions. I climbed up a 50-foot guard tower. I decided theclimb is longer with the added weight of the vest. Up in the tower two soldiers with night vision gogglesscanned the skies. Outside the perimeter brave infantrymen patrolled the darkness on foot to ensure wewere safe. We waited, the infantry reported all clear and we stood down for the night. I prayed with theguards. One would remain, the lone sentinel keeping us safe from the arrows that come by night. Pleasepray for the soldiers and families of the Raider Brigade, 4th Infantry Division. Thank you.


American soldiers can be rather ingenious. For example, sometimes the electricity goes off causing thedining facility to be bathed in the soft glow of the emergency lights. The cooks then turn on classicalmusic and we are transported to a world-class restaurant complete with the finest cuisine. An MRE boxnailed to the wall becomes a makeshift cabinet complete with doors.This afternoon we hosted five members of the media to a press conference. They saw the same secretslides we do and we trust them not to endanger American lives with this knowledge. They asked thecommander very specific questions and he gave them very specific answers. Not sure about the rest ofthe world, but from our foxhole things are going well. There are still dangers, but less than there used tobe and more Iraqis are telling us where the bad guys and their weapon caches are hiding. Yet we arealways watchful, aggressive when we can tell who are the bad guys, cautious when we can't.

Tonight, the 71st Army Band put on a concert. I expected marching band music. Instead, dressed inblack t-shirts and DCU pants they played classic rock and hard rock. Soldiers sat on the biggest piece ofgrass on Forward Operating Base Raider. The company bought sodas and watermelon and a good timewas had by all. Of course the M2 Bradley in a nearby over-watch position reminded us that while wemay have been born in the USA, we were not quite there yet. Please pray for the soldiers and families ofthe Raider Brigade, 4th Infantry Division. Thank you.


This Saturday, I went to the Grand Opening of the Tikrit Internet Café'. My purpose was to visit abattalion chaplain afterwards, but this was our first stop. We drove into the busy streets of Tikrit on thisbustling Saturday morning. There were many young men on the streets, sitting, standing, looking at usas we drove by. We approached the café'. An M2 Bradley guarded the entrance. American infantrymenprovided security to its side, reminding us of the security situation. We walked in. Off the entrance of this multi-story main communications building was smaller room. In it, approximately 15 computerswere active. Iraqis sat on about half of them. While some of the more privileged in Tikrit had Internetaccess previously, this is the first facility for general public use. Yahoo and Google were the two morepopular pages, both in English. Most Iraqis, inside and out dressed in street clothes common in America,some wore traditional Arab garb.

I went back outside and talked to the infantrymen, always watching the rooftops and windows across thestreets. A blue paneled van drove up slowly alongside the building. A brave captain in our group went toinvestigate, I asked the infantryman to join him. They searched the van briefly and told it to move away.

Iraqi policemen, still dressed in green Iraqi Army uniforms with AK-47s stood nearby. Men loiteredaround the main entrance and around us. Kids gathered around. A squad of American infantrymen went inside the building. I asked what they were doing; the answer was they were going onto the rooftop. Ithought this was a good idea. There's a healthy balance between paranoia and complacency, we err onthe side of cautious watchfulness. I thanked the infantrymen around me individually, personally forkeeping us safe. All the while, I kept scanning the rooftops and windows, courtyards and gates acrossthe street. The grand opening went off fine, there were speeches, media, ribbon-cutting andrefreshments. We left. I was glad to leave. Please pray for the soldiers and families of the RaiderBrigade, 4th Infantry Division. Thank you.

Raider Brigade Chaplain Update, 27 August 2003. Part I

American soldiers are great. These past couple of days, I spent on the road, visiting soldiers whileescorting our Catholic chaplain in convoys around the 1st Brigade's AO (Area of Operation). It allstarted on a sunny Monday morning. We picked up the priest at Division Main Headquarters in Tikritproper. Quickly, we returned to our home, FOB (Forward Operating Base) Raider. The priest celebratedMass and began the training of two Eucharistic Ministers. These two soldiers have demanding full-time leadership positions. Yet for the sake of God and others, they are willing to extend their leadership intothe religious realm. They will be able to meet needs of the fledging Catholic community on FOB Raider.The priest will conclude their training in two weeks.

We traveled to the BSA (Brigade Support Area). As it name implies, the BSA is home to many of thefunctions that supports soldiers in the field, i.e. food, water, medical, mail, etc. There, the Catholicchaplain celebrated Mass with soldiers. I met with a sergeant who is originally from Hungary and wasonce in the Romanian Army. He was recently promoted to sergeant in the American Army and is veryproud and grateful of this.

Back in our vehicles we drove north to the (DSE) Division Support Element, a bigger version of theBSA. Along the way I marveled at a large American convoy. Twenty-five big 5000-gallon fuel trucksand their escorts with over 50 brave soldiers barreling south to give their precious fuel to thirstyvehicles. They know the risks and the dangers of driving fuel trucks, yet their protection includes yourprayers, so thank you for praying.

We spent the night at the DSE located on FOB Speicher. This FOB is named after Scott Speicher, anAmerican Air Force pilot shot down in Operation Desert Storm. The next day we drove back south. Wesped along the four-lane road (two lanes in either direction) known as Highway 1 with its gravelmedian. We suddenly came to a jarring halt. An Army vehicle was stopped in the left lane and a soldiertold us to halt with yells and the universal Army closed fist signal. I wondered if this was an MPwarning us that an IED (Improvised Explosive Device) lay in our path. Instead, it was a soldier who toldus her vehicle had broken down. They were now alone. Her driver was on the other side of the vehicle.She was also outside the vehicle, guarding the driver's side. Two women soldiers, broken down alone on a high-speed road in the middle of Iraq is not something I'd wish for my daughter. Yet theseAmerican soldiers were being soldiers. They weren't panicking; they were guarding themselves andtheir vehicle and getting help. We left one of our vehicles and more soldiers with them and went on. We learned a few minutes later that they'd been able to restart the broken vehicle and get back to base. Godhad provided for our safety and their safety again. Thank you for praying for soldiers as we do God'swork in Iraq.

Please pray for the soldiers and families of the Raider Brigade, 4th Infantry Division. Thank you. (To becontinued . . .)

Raider Brigade Chaplain Update, 27 August 2003. Part II

The next day we traveled first to the BSA, this time to pick up mail. The post office is in a stone bakedbuilding that the mail clerk thought with a smile was originally either a horse stable or camel stable. Abattered red semi-trailer sat silently with its precious possessions. The mailbags with letters werealready out, but the stores of boxes remained. It would have taken the two mail clerks quite a while tounload the trailer so we all pitched in. Box after box we pulled out and separated by battalion. Thesebattered boxes were about to make a soldier's day. Many of the men looked anxiously to see if apackage had their name. I saw quickly that a box needs to withstand a three-foot drop, basically from asoldier's waist. Sweating soldiers removed box after box out of the trailer, dropping them onto battalionpiles and then loading them into the unit's five-ton truck. One box was an MRE box from a husbanddeployed elsewhere in Iraq to his wife in this particular unit.

We traveled to an armor battalion. While the priest celebrated Mass with some soldiers, the battalionchaplain and I visited other soldiers. We walked through their quarters, seeing how they lived, talking,learning, appreciating, encouraging. We met a first sergeant who was scheduled to retire next month andbegin a new career. The 1SG is not retiring. He said, he would not leave his troops. He started this thingwith his men and he'll finish it. He told us about close calls and some injuries they'd sustained, but nodeaths and a number of miraculous events where men were not killed or hurt worse than they were.After a while we prayed together. We prayed, thanking God for their safety, asking wisdom in hisleadership position and continued safety for his soldiers.

We met a second lieutenant who is leading an armor platoon of men and M1 tanks into combatregularly. He is learning things daily that they didn't teach him at West Point. We are all learning daily,we can't help but to learn from all our experiences.

We met the reenlistment NCO who told us reenlistment rates were about average with the pluses andminuses of deployment and combat balancing each other. He expected them to increase in the nearfuture with the lifting of some restrictions.

We walked among the quarters and talked to tankers and infantrymen, some in smaller rooms with threeto four per room. Some in large rooms with twenty or so cots lined up next to each other on both sidesof the wall. An American flag decorated the stone wall in one large room. M-16 rifles decorated thewooden wall in another. The soldiers were all professionals and capable of joking as well. They were great.We met another second lieutenant, twenty-four years old, recently graduated from a college in Iowa, shenow leads 47 soldiers in a platoon of Supply and Transportation trucks. Unlike the armor lieutenant,when she regularly goes on convoys and delivers badly needed supplies it’s only with her trucks. She is married to another officer who is also deployed in Iraq. He was the soldier who had mailed his wifegoods in an MRE box. We prayed together, praying for God's wisdom in leadership and safety for hersoldiers and husband.

We got back on the road. The next day, I read the Engineer Battalion's report of finding an IED(Improvised Explosive Device) on the median of the road we had been traveling. It had been on our sideof the median when we had passed it the previous afternoon. Many convoys travel this road, but wewere one of them. According to the report, the IED was a mortar round in concrete, daisy chained withsome wire. The engineers believed that it was, "a command detonated IED that did not detonate." Ibelieve God kept us safe. Thank you for praying for our protection. We all made it home safely. Pleasecontinue to pray for the soldiers and families of the Raider Brigade, 4th Infantry Division. Thank you.


The past few days have been busy but calm on FOB (Forward Operating Base) Raider. The days havebeen getting cooler. At first temperatures peaked around 115 degrees, then it cooled to 111 peaks, nowthe highs are a balmy 109. This means the mornings are cooler too. The other morning I ate breakfast inthe cool morning air overlooking the Tigris River. It was a good place to pray, thanking God for Hisprotection thus far and praying He’d keep our soldiers and families safe.

Our infantry battalion has been busy in many ways. Regularly American infantrymen accept risks anddangers to keep their friends, family and country safe. The battalion chaplain has also been busy.Soldiers were baptized in Christ this past weekend, and the unit recently conducted a Prayer Breakfastfeaturing their godly battalion commander as the speaker.

A welcome service came to FOB Raider, laundry. Fifteen pieces twice a week is the current capacity,but watch out that you get the same socks back that you sent in.

The Chapel also had a welcome addition. An Iraqi woodworker took a small metal image andhandcrafted a large, beautiful wooden cross and crucifix for the Raider Chapel. He stained the wood adark mahogany and beautifully carved an image of Christ.

Soldiers make time for each other. A week hasn’t gone by so far without a small party somewhere, abirthday party, a going away party. Small circles of soldiers gather, sometimes by flashlight, sometimeswith sodas and Oreos to bid their respects or farewell to a comrade. This is a practice that comes withthe brotherhood of arms. Last night, Friday, was no exception. We stood around with sodas, talkingabout ideas for Christmas, enjoying the moment, lingering. Then came the staccato sounds ofmachinegun fire from across the river reminding us we were still in Iraq. The fire was distant andapparently not aimed at us, so we kept touch with our sentinels and tried to continue to moment.

Tonight was also special. A generous captain received a great package from his favorite Italianrestaurant in upstate New York. The large package contained spaghetti noodles and the restaurant’ssecret spaghetti sauce. A few aspiring chefs later and we had a $50 meal with our finest paper trays andplastic forks. The restaurant also sent their homemade chocolate chip cookies in pizza boxes - bigcookies. Frank Sinatra’s, “New York, New York” serenaded us and life was good for a moment. I triednot to feel guilty that at the same moment brave Americans were conducting yet another raid to keeptheir friends, family and nation safe from evil men. I ate my food and prayed.

Leaders are leading from the front. And every day & every night American soldiers do dangerous workfor their friends, country and families. Please pray for their courage and safety of the soldiers andfamilies in the Raider Brigade, 4th Infantry Division. Thank you.

Raider Brigade Chaplain Update, 01 September 2003

Today began preparations for what we’re calling the Salah Ad Din Government Selection Process. InAmerica we have states, in other countries like Iraq they have providences. We are guests of the peopleof Salah Ad Din Providence. And for the first time in their lifetime the people of Salah Ad DinProvidence will elect a representative government. The governor is already selected; the next step is acouncil, a legislative body like our Congress. What this means for us right now is much attention andmany, many visitors. For the first time residents of Salah Ad Din have a voice in their government andthus representatives from every major group and tribe will be represented in the process and representedon our base. There will be plenty of high level American attention too. This means lots of work and lotsof preparations.

NCOs (Non-Commissioned Officers) will make these preparations happen. Early this morning, as thedarkness fought its losing battle to the sun, soldiers of this camp stood at attention in formation assoldiers have done for many years. The First Sergeant explained the gravity of the situation and thework involved, “There is no such thing as a twelve hour shift anymore. You’ll get your four hours sleepand that’s it.” There was much work to do for the sake of democracy.

After breakfast my path took a different route. A MASCAL (Mass Casualty) is when casualties exceedmedical capacities. A MASCAL exercise trains for something we hope will never happen, but canhappen, especially in Iraq. We drove to the exercise site. We paused at a large building that had been thesite of a firefight the day before. We were properly motivated to be vigilant. We moved on. The exercisewent off, almost pale in comparison to real world casualties and tragedies. Yet, we train. That’s whatsoldiers do. In training or reality, Army Chaplains give hope and comfort to those wounded and dying.We pray with them, read Scripture, comfort them, literally hold their hands sometimes. This is a criticalcore of ministry. This is part of what Army Chaplains do. Little did I know then, that by the end of theweek, this training would become all too real.

Please pray for the safety of our soldiers and families in the Raider Brigade, 4th Infantry Division asthey keep democracy safe here and abroad. Thank you.


Scouts out, is a phrase I heard before. Today, I got to see it personified. Everyday and every night scoutpatrols venture into the unknown to help keep the rest of us safe. This morning I would travel with oneof them. We traveled out a familiar gate and almost immediately got into the unfamiliar. The scouts hadtheir general area to patrol. Yet with characteristic improvisation the young sergeant leading the patrolmade instant decisions on exactly where to turn and go based on his instinct honed with combatexperience.

We traveled into the small towns in the brigade area of operations. I had previously traveled with speedup and down the highways in our area. But, scouts are about patrolling slowly, deliberately, looking intostreets, yards and foreign eyes to see if something is amiss. The sandstone houses with flat roofsreminded me of other hot underdeveloped lands. The fields of grain and corn fed by irrigation ditchesand canals off the mighty Tigris River reminded me of dry farming in other desert climates. Sheep withshepherds and cows on leashes tied to poles were a bit new.

In every small town unlike the larger cities, children ran out and waved, some men waved and even awoman or two waved. They shouted encouraging words. Still we were wary. At one point a man in awhite pickup truck off to our left waved as if he wanted to talk to us. A large field and trees decoratedour right. We tried to discern his intentions and were all distracted by him on our left - a tactical error.Unseen, a man had approached from the trees on our right. When I finally saw him moments later, hejust stood there. He could have had me if he wanted, but not today. Thank you for praying for our safety.We moved on.

We drove into the desert and saw remnants of large anti-aircraft missile batteries, turned into relics bythe United States Air Force. We stopped in a small rustic town, bought a slab of ice and moved onquickly, but not before kids arrived to show off their bikes and give us high-fives. We stopped in anIraqi police station and stumbled as best we could in our separate languages. A scout sergeant becamean instant diplomat conversing in his finest broken Arabic.

We returned to the scouts’ forward operating base on the Tigris River. There I spent time with braveAmerican scouts, forward observers, mortar men and mechanics. I walked where they walked, talked

with some, laughed with others, and prayed one-on-one with a special few. Then, I set up to do aservice.

As I was getting ready to leave, the radio crackled with the bad news that a convoy had been attackedwith an IED (Improvised Explosive Device) wounding four American soldiers. Ministry in combat wasabout to take on a different aspect. Please pray for the courage and comfort of soldiers who go forward,soldiers who are wounded and the families of the Raider Brigade, 4th Infantry Division. Thank you.


Today, I saw evidence of effectual prayer and effective leadership. I traveled with a battalion chaplain tothe site of an infantry company and support company. The previous night they had been attacked with amortar round that had landed just inside their perimeter. The mortar had shattered a maintenance trailer,but by the grace of God had not killed or wounded anyone. The mangled trailer was a different story.Thank you for praying for our soldiers' safety.

We saw the vehicles that been attacked by the IED (Improvised Explosive Device) the previous day.The holes in the side of the truck, flattened tires and shattered windshields made testament to the forceof the attack that had wounded four of our fine soldiers. Mechanics were working hard on these brokenvehicles predicting to me proudly with a greasy smile they could get them back on the road within aday. We visited other brave soldiers there. While the IED attack had happened just yesterday, thismorning more men in more convoys rolled out moving along the same roads to accomplish theirmission. IEDs would not stop American soldiers. These men appreciate your prayers too.

We then traveled to the 28th CSH (Combat Support Hospital). If you've ever see the TV show,M*A*S*H* the concept is the same. Essentially modern medicine happens in less than modernconditions. Green tents substitute for pastel colored hospital walls; litters on stands take the place ofmulti-faceted hospital beds. Still, life-saving surgery and quality in-patient treatment occurs in sterileconditions while the sand and dust swirls just outside the tents.

I visited with the patients, especially those who had been wounded the day before in the IED attack.After talking with some of them, this is what I understand happened. When the convoy was attacked bythe IED, the lieutenant in command was in the front passenger seat of the lead HUMVEE. A platoonsergeant was riding in the back passenger seat. The other two wounded soldiers were in a medium truckin the middle, a HUMVEE was the third vehicle. The intended killing agent was a remotely detonatedartillery shell just off the right side of the road. A thunderous explosion damaged all three vehiclessimultaneously, blowing out thick truck tires and shattering glass everywhere. The wounded convoycame to a jarred and disarrayed halt and was sitting still as the blast subsided and the dust settled. Theofficer in charge was wounded. In the finest tradition of sergeants who have taken over when theirofficer went down, the platoon sergeant took charge. He literally exchanged seats with his woundedofficer. Somehow, he got the convoy moving again with its blown out tires and shattered windshields,he got the men going. Pulling away from the kill zone they would leave no man behind. The platoonsergeant radioed for help and managed to get the wounded men and their shattered vehicles to safety andto a medical facility about six kilometers away. There, the doctors discovered the platoon sergeant hadalso been wounded all along. Still, thanks to him the men would all live to fight another day.

There is a painting I've seen of a Civil War sergeant scooping down from his galloping horse to pull hiswounded officer to safety. This platoon sergeant personifies that picture and that spirit. He is my herofor his leadership in combat. Please pray for the courage and safety of the soldiers and families in theRaider Brigade, 4th Infantry Division. Thank you.


This week the war was about travel and remembrance. On Monday we embarked on our journey acrossthe various FOBs (Forward Operating Bases) in our brigade area. Along the way I visited with soldiersand battalion unit ministry teams. The vast majority of the soldiers I visited live in some type ofpermanent structure. These structures range from old regime palaces, a factory complex, assorted crustybuildings and metallic maintenance hangers. Wherever soldiers occupy a structure they make it better.Americans are blessed with a high quality of life and our soldiers don't mind working hard to achieve ithere. In one FOB soldiers still predominantly live in sandblasted green tents. In this and another FOB Isaw containerized quarters being constructed. These are small trailer homes complete with electricityand air conditioning that can house two to four soldiers.

By mid-week we were on the road again, this time to the Division Main Headquarters for two days oftraining. As the morning of September 11th broke over the central palace, soldiers of the 4th InfantryDivision gathered for the 9-11 Memorial Ceremony. We had said we would never forget and now it wastime to remember. The band played a prelude, a chaplain prayed an invocation, sergeants read Scriptureand the commanding general spoke. He reminded us that the road to here had begun back there. Hereminded us that our job here was not yet done. But, that we were now indeed standing on the groundsof the evil dictator's old palace in his own hometown. We remembered September 11th some more,prayed some more, felt some more, and went on our way.

On the way home it was time to remember that we are at war and simple drives can turn deadly. Thefirst sergeant gave the convoy brief. He reminded us of the dangers ahead and our actions and reactionsto them. Then he called for a rock drill. This is a simple rehearsal of what our actions would be uponcontact. Except we didn't use rocks. Almost on cue, without a word from endless such rehearsals,soldiers dropped their helmets onto the ground. One helmet was the first vehicle; one was the second,etc. In case of an attack from the front we'd do this, in case a vehicle was hit from the rear we'd do that.The rock drill now complete, someone asked a chaplain for a prayer. We prayed and moved out.

We arrived home safely, so thank you for praying for God's protection for us. But others will not arrivehome safely and we remember them. These First Brigade soldiers died to keep their friends, family andcountry safe and free. We remember their sacrifice. First Lieutenant Osbaldo Orozco: Killed in Action,April 2003 Private First Class Jess Halling Killed in Action, June 2003 Staff Sergeant Steven White,Killed in Action, August 2003. Please pray for the protection and courage of the soldiers and families inthe Raider Brigade, 4th Infantry Division. Thank you.

Raider Brigade Chaplain Update, 15-16 September 2003

If last week was about the past and remembrance, this week was about the future and hope. At least itstarted out that way. For this week began with the Salah Addin government selection process. SalahAddin is the Iraqi province in which the Raider Brigade currently resides. Today we hosted about 80delegates from the various governates of the province. The object was for those delegates to select agoverning council for the province. From that council, Iraqis could then select three assistant governors.It was the basic budding of democracy in this part of the world.

I joined the throng in our ornate Regimental Room. After some opening introductions and instructionsas a combined group, the delegates broke up into groups by governates. Raider Chapel hosted thedelegation from Tikrit.

The battalion commander charged with the Tikrit delegation graciously invited his charges into theroom. I watched him patiently and diligently explain the job descriptions of those to be selected and

how the voting process would work. Then he invited those interested in being on the council to standand state their qualifications to their peers. A former political prisoner under the dead regime stood first.An engineer made his case, then a lawyer. A local sheik spoke up, then a woman instructor at theUniversity of Tikrit. A chemist lobbied for himself last. Then it was time to vote. This delegation wouldselect four members of the 33 person ruling council. Ballots were passed out. The delegates ponderedtheir decisions. They talked among each other like students before a high school exam. The delegatesslowly stood, walked forward and deliberately put their ballots into the padlocked blue ballot box.Earlier the first sergeant had told me that these ballot boxes were old Iraqi ammunition boxes, aseemingly appropriate bridge from the past to the future. An Iraqi judge oversaw the voting process andcertified the results. Four new council members were elected. I'm not sure, but must believe this was thefirst time many of them voted for anything like this. Democracy was taking its roots in this part of Iraq.

The next day I had another peek at the future. The division that is scheduled to replace us sent a smalladvance party to inquire, explore, ask questions and begin their process of deploying to Iraq. We wereall very happy to see them and give them all the help and information they wantedand more, anything to ease their deployment here and transition with our soldiers.

Yet, the present often has a way of bringing reality to future dreams. Brave men still do dangerousthings for their friends, families and country. On this day I would again travel with the scouts. Themission for these soldiers today was to pick up a local resident for questioning. The scouts swiftly setabout their mission. Wordlessly they cordoned off the target home and went inside. Soon they had theirman and were off just as definitively and decisively as they entered. After returning to base and somequestioning it was time to pay a visit to a couple of other homes. These visits were made decisively,aggressively, clearing the residences of dangers, questioning suspects and gathering intelligence.

It was daytime and children played nearby our armed troops and vehicles. They seemed to have acertain fascination for American soldiers. I waved some away as the situation was still developing. Onetoddler had no fear and waddled right up to us. I motioned his older brother to take control of hissibling. The scouts would consolidate their intelligence and revisit select homes in a later nighttime raid.Upon returning to base again, I spent time with these warriors, ordinary men doing a hero's job, andoffered them a religious service.

No operation in this part of the world is without danger. Whether gathering free men to cast votes, orgathering intelligence to defeat terrorists, there are evil men about who would seek to stop this finework. We seek to defeat them first. This is our calling; this is our life. Please pray for our soldierssupporting a budding democracy in Iraq and for their families in the Raider Brigade, 4th InfantryDivision. Thank you.


Ambush. It can be a devastating word with fatal results. Later on men would say it was just anothernight, another patrol like so many others. Yet, this nadir would change their destiny forever. In the firstminutes, probably seconds of the ambush, three American soldiers were slain, giving their lives for theirfamily and country and for each other. Two others were wounded. With many others, I monitored thisnight's events intensely on the radio as the tragedy unfolded. It was a dark night when death called.

Yet, there is another word, as potent as the first but for the good, it's called, brotherhood. Sometimes inthe midst of tragedy there is hope, a kernel of human goodness or heroism. Over the days as I hearddifferent accounts of this dark and murky night the heroism of these brothers fighting for each other wasvaliantly displayed. There was the gunner who kept firing and firing when his sergeant and driver wentdown and his vehicle went awry until he could fire no more. Jumping onto the ground he picked up the

weapon on his fallen brother and alone in the darkness continued to fire upon the enemy over the hoodof his vehicle. There was the platoon sergeant whose vehicle escaped the initial death of the kill zone.Then seeing the fate of his second vehicle immediately turned around and went right back into the killzone. His gunner went down, another sergeant took his place. This sergeant though wounded himself,poured fire upon the enemy as they charged back into the ambush site. The driver was now alsowounded but got out into the darkness and found the lone survivor who had kept firing in the darkness.The platoon sergeant and his surviving soldiers would leave no man behind. They evacuated their deadand wounded brothers and continued the mission. "Charlie-Mike" they call it, continuethe mission.

But the night was not yet over. American soldiers will not retreat in the face of evil men. Instead, nowreinforced they would hunt down the killers and their collaborators. At the exhausted end of the hunt, afull 17 hours plus later the enemy was defeated and captured. The shooters and many, many willingaccomplices were now in detention centers as investigators determined the full extent of their crimes. Inthe profound self-discipline of American soldiers no vengeance was taken that night, no enemy waskilled. Yet, inside the souls of these men, the pain of losing brothers was just beginning.

That night, on the rooftop of their nearby command post, next to the fighting position and a 50-calibermachinegun that overlooks the Tigris River, a fellow warrior etched a memorial. It is a true testament ofbrotherhood, burned into the stone forever. There are three sets of initials. Next to them are these words,"9-18-03, Rest in Peace, My Brothers in Arms." Rest in Peace indeed.

Please pray for the families of those killed in action defending our country's freedom from terrorism andfor their families in the Raider Brigade, 4th Infantry Division. Thank you.


It had been a long night before, but would be a longer day. I awoke hoping it was all a bad dream, but itwasn't. When I arrived the next day I walked up to see soldiers cleaning out the wreckage in theHumvees. The shattered windshields, spent cartridges and blood stained seats soaked with Americanblood gave testament to the ferocity of the previous night's fight.

I asked the young platoon leader if I could talk to his men in a group. We sat upon a variety of makeshift chairs huddled around dissembled weapons that the men were cleaning. One by one they told theirstories, adding details here, pausing to reflect there. Some talked more than others, some shed tears, atthe end we all prayed as a group. This close knit band of brothers were now brought even closer by theloss of some of their own. Their pain was raw but they would be all right.

The soldiers wanted to see their wounded comrades, so off we went to the combat support hospital. Nobetter display of brotherhood was seen than in that hospital. They hugged and shed the tears of a longseparated, now reunited family. About ten soldiers surrounded each of their two wounded brothers,hugging, sharing, healing. They stayed and stayed like distant relatives who had been through an ordealand not seen each other in ages. I took note that in the same hospital, in the same ward, separated bycurtains and guards, captured enemies receive the same care those they had wounded receive. This is theAmerican way. I was honored to be with our men.

That night these same soldiers would go out again. It was time to get back on the horse. We rolled outinto the darkness. We crossed a major bridge and paused. The sounds of friendly mortar andmachine-gun fire echoing in the darkness added a surreal touch. Scouts walked beside me to my left andright looking for landmines. M1 tanks would join us tonight. At one point a couple of cars brazenlydrove recklessly toward the tanks. The behemoth's turret quickly swerved toward the cars and they

retreated even quicker. Then it was time to go. One platoon detained a suspicious car and two men. Oneman had an old gunshot to the foot. American soldiers treated the wound with the same supplies theyuse for each other. This man pointed out a home of other evil men. It was time for a raid.

The soldiers planned and coordinated, shared information with their armor support and then initiated theraid. The intimidating tank crashed into the compound, headlights shining brightly to greet theoccupants inside. The soldiers scurried about wordlessly. Doors went down. One building, then anotherwas secured by the efficient raiders. Some occupants ran and were caught, some hid and were caught.The compound was secured. The detainees were amassed at the main building. The commander invitedme forward. Questioning was going on of the men in the compound. The women and children satnearby. These same soldiers who had been ambushed in the previous nights were now concerned aboutunnecessarily frightening these women and children. A couple of nights before they had received fire.Tonight they hand out blankets to the mothers and their charges. I tried to provide some rudimentarycomfort, trying to calm these women and children with my few words of Arabic, tone of voice, and handgestures. I showed the children my flashlight and shared a blue chemlite with them. Then it was time togo. I was honored to be with these men tonight. Yet these soldiers do this work every night. Every nightbrave men venture into the darkness, into harm's way to defend their homes, freedom, family and eachother. You may pray for these soldiers, that God would also be with them every night.

Please pray for the soldiers defending our country's freedom from terrorism and for their families backhome in the Raider Brigade, 4th Infantry Division. Thank you.


The war came closer to home today. I had just finished my breakfast on this calm Friday morning whenthe radio started cracking of an IED (Improvised Explosive Device) attack upon one of our ownconvoys. I chose to be in denial for a moment hoping this was not what I had heard. However, realitydoes not allow for denial. More radio traffic and more confirmation of the attack. Then the names ofthose in our just departed convoy sizzled through the airwaves. These very familiar names of friends andfellow soldiers were too close to be true. The commander called for a quick reaction force and recoveryteam to come forward. I knew I had to be on that team. Men moved out with a purpose. Americansoldiers do not have to be told twice to help their attacked brethren. I gathered my equipment and foundthe anxious rescuers. After some fits and halts from the fog of war we rolled. An M2 Bradley led theway, it's 25-millimeter gun ready for all comers. We followed in a wrecker truck and then a gun truck.

When I arrived it was like a great accident scene on our nation's interstates. Other vehicles and soldiersformed a loosely organized security pocket. Army ambulances sped past us the other way apparentlyevacuating the wounded. We stopped. The vehicle most hit was in flames, it's crushed front and flattenrear tires reeling from the enemy's attack. The soldiers with me brought up fire extinguishers and beatback the flames. I saw the bumper number on the back of the vehicle identifying its owner and instantlyknew who it was. "No," I thought, "not him." Then by a miracle of God, I turned to a group of soldiersnearby and saw him – shaken, but uninjured. My mouth lay open as I grasped to understand thedevastation of the vehicle and mercy in this attack.

Others however were hurt and had just been evacuated in the ambulances that had passed us. I knewthey'd be in good medical hands. I sought to understand who else was involved. Army chaplains seek tocomfort the wounded. I've learned that injuries go deeper than the physical and often those untouchedcan be just as wounded inside. I talked to a soldier deeply grieved that one of the wounded soldiers hadtraded places with him just before departing. We talked and prayed together, our helmets touching. Ispoke with two others, women soldiers who had provided security to their wounded friends. We alsoprayed together.

We walked the ground. We came upon the detonation site. A hole blasted in the median testified to theexplosive's site. Tire rubber, surrounding shrapnel, and a small AAA battery betrayed the mode ofattack. A mortar or artillery shell hidden by an old tire was remote detonated by an evil person seekingto kill American soldiers. They had not succeeded, though only by the grace of God.

We drove in the surviving vehicles to the nearby aid station to check on our wounded. Upon arriving welearned they had already been further evacuated by helicopter to the Combat Support Hospital to ournorth. The commander and first sergeant retrieved their soldier's equipment. No man or equipmentwould be left behind. They were in God's hands now working through doctors and nurses. We droveback to our base, wordlessly.

Please pray for those wounded in action defending our country's freedom from terrorism and for thesoldiers and families of the Raider Brigade, 4th Infantry Division. Thank you.


The next day we visited our wounded in the nearby combat support hospital. One man had beenevacuated to an Army hospital in Baghdad to receive specialized care. We were happy and relieved tosee the other two. We profusely thanked the doctors and nurses who had worked so hard helping ourwounded friends. One by one we paid homage to our friends. As their chaplain, I was honored to talk toeach of them and pray with them. One soldier asked me to call his parents in the States. I did so uponreturning to base.

The hospital chaplain came out to talk. I’m glad there’s a chaplain assigned to the hospital who is therefull time. A couple of our soldiers borrowed his chapel to pray for their friends. Like the rest of thehospital the chapel has a modern inside wrapped in green Army tents.

Yet these men were wounded and by the grace of God not killed. One of the ways God worked wasthrough a couple of NCO’s (Non-commissioned officers). Upon being hit by the explosive force, thevehicle crumpled and skidded to a halt about one hundred meters away. Then it started to burn. Thewounded men in the back quickly got off or were helped off the back, but the driver was trapped in hiscab as the consuming flames began their search. The first sergeant and another sergeant in the strickenconvoy set about to release this man from a fiery end. The first sergeant cut one seatbelt strap, thenanother. But the soldier could not get out, his legs caught in the mangled cab of the vehicle. The flameand heat licked closer and began to sear on them. The sergeant worked the feet. The fire did its work. Itwas a race. Then, the sergeants won. They released the wounded soldier and moved him into anambulance. When I had arrived the intense fire was still busy consuming its prey. At the end only thecharred skeleton of the vehicle remained, looking like a box spring mattress without fabric. TheseNCO’s had saved this soldiers life and evacuated him to live another day.

Tonight we will have a special prayer service to pray for our wounded friends. We invite you to prayalso.

Please pray for the skill and courage of those leading our soldiers in this war on terrorism and for thesoldiers and families of the Raider Brigade, 4th Infantry Division. Thank you.

Raider Brigade Chaplain Update, 3 October 2003

Taps sounded for another soldier this morning. She was a young driver, blissfully driving her companycommander when her world exploded from an enemy IED (Improvised Explosive Device) followed byan RPG (Rocket-Propelled Grenade). Three other soldiers were wounded with her, two seriously. Shewas assigned to one battalion and attached or working for another. At the Memorial Ceremony bothunits paid honor to her service and sacrifice in their own special ways. A soloist sang "America theBeautiful" at the beginning. Soldiers lined up to pay their last respects at the end.

She is the first woman soldier killed in our BCT (Brigade Combat Team) and the seventh soldier ourBCT has lost in this fight for freedom from terrorism. Back home, we are a brigade. But in Iraq we areaugmented to become a larger Brigade Combat Team. Back home soldiers live and work in separateareas, often isolated by organizations, buildings and daily routines. But here, with the hardship andrigors of daily life and combat over months and months, soldiers develop bonds that many will onlybegin to know in a peaceful life. We are the 1st Brigade Combat Team of the 4th Infantry Division. Shewas one of us and she is our seventh loss.

She was an only child, a young lady engaged to a young man waiting to marry her when she wouldreturn home from the war. These lovers were waiting for each other to begin their lives together. Theyhad plans. But there would be no wedding. Her fiancé wrote her many fine letters. Now his love letterslie in an unopened stack. I saw them gathered in a neat pile fastened with a rubber band waiting to bereturned home. She and he had both sacrificed their future together for a greater good.

A few days later, I saw an article in the newspaper where her funeral was held in Houston. Her fatherwas asked what he thought of losing his only daughter. What do you think her father said, sacrificing hislittle girl so our country can continue it's free and prosperous way of life?

"I want people to remember my daughter for what she was - a hero," said her father. "I feel sad becauseshe was killed but I feel proud also because she gave her life for this country. She was very brave." Shewas very brave indeed. Thank you for your sacrifice. Please pray for the men and women of the FirstBrigade Combat Team (Raiders), 4th Infantry Division. Thank you.


This Tuesday, I traveled with our cavalry scouts on a daytime combat patrol. We drove through villagesand towns looking for the out of place. In these outer areas many people live in mud-bricked homesinside mud-walled compounds. They often have mud-caked chicken houses, a dug out pit for burningtrash, trash, and a homely dog. We dismounted our vehicles and walked through fields and fenceslooking for concealed weapons or signs of an ambush being prepared. By now the countryside seemsjust a bit more familiar than before. I saw schoolchildren walking to school in a tantalizing bit of hopethat life would one day be normal here. A couple schoolboys walked with square backpacks. Perhapsbecause I have a little girl, I noticed a group of schoolgirls dressed in identical white blouses and bluedresses that seemed too neat in this disordered country.

We spent a few moments conducting a flash checkpoint, stopping to check cars for contraband. Wemoved on driving slowly, carefully, and deliberately. Suddenly the last vehicle of our three-vehiclepatrol was hit, hit by a rock. The vehicle stopped as the sergeant saw that a young schoolboy had thrownthe rock and ran into a compound. We got out to investigate. The small, wiry boy saw us coming andran away through a small hole in the mud-baked wall. His family came out to see what was happening.Upon learning what had happened, the boy's young mom or older sister caught up with him and broughtthe boy to us struggling, tightly gripping his hand. The sergeant squatted down to the boy's height, put

down his weapon, took off his helmet and sunglasses and in his best broken Arabic and sign languagegently explained that throwing rocks at vehicles was bad. The squirming boy stood wide-eyed before thetender warrior. The entire family gathered to watch as the now sobbing schoolboy learned a lesson theeasy way that perhaps he'll remember for a while. We moved on.

On another early morning, I was on the road as the sun was just settling into its morning position. Overthe radio came the report of a loud bang on a Tikrit city street and a child's body destroyed next to it. Afather was wailing. Nearby another child was torn apart and severely wounded. Upon investigation itseems a woman had left a bag of explosives on the edge of a street intending to kill Americans in ourpassing vehicles. Children on their way to school that morning picked up the bag, perhaps to return it toher - they never had a chance. The enemy has total disregard for the Iraqi people and Iraqischoolchildren had paid the price. I thought about the boy with the rocks and the schoolgirls in blue andsadly hoped it wasn't any of them.

Please pray for the soldiers and families of the Raider Brigade, 4th Infantry Division in and aroundTikrit, Iraq. Please also pray for Iraq civilians who seek to end the violence and move forward in peace.Thank you.


We have a new chaplain coming to the 1st Brigade Combat Team. I wrote him a letter of introduction. Ithink this letter captures the essence of what Army chaplains are doing in the service of their God andcountry. See what you think.

Dear Chaplain,

Hello, I am Chaplain Oscar Arauco, the Brigade Chaplain of the 1st Brigade, 4th Infantry Division. Itwill be your distinct honor to serve Jesus Christ and your country with the Raider Brigade, 4th ID. Youwill serve the soldiers and families of the 3-66 Armor Battalion. They, like the rest of the brigade are inthe thick of the fight here in the Tikrit area. I trust you are preparing yourself and your familyphysically, emotionally and spiritually. It gets no more real than this. This is Saddam's hometown regionand nothing is easy. You will conduct ministry in a combat environment. Chaplains in this brigade haveexperienced up close and personal the full scope of ministry, "Nurturing the Living," "Caring for theWounded," and "Honoring the Dead."

You will be relieving a chaplain who has served his soldiers and families faithfully. Your chaplainassistant is now a combat veteran. Plan on a brief transition time. Plan to fall in on the outgoingchaplain's existing ministry and then move out quickly with your own ministry. There are six otherchaplains in this BCT. We have our 1BCT UMT Conference weekly on Thursdays at 1500 in the 1stBrigade Chapel. Plan to come beginning your first Thursday.

Your call sign is Lancer 28. Pray well and get ready to minister in this physical and spiritual warfare.See you on the battlefield.

I meet new soldiers who arrive in Iraq often. New faces replace those killed, wounded or who havereturned home for various reasons. Some are young, eager, hungry faces. Some are a bit nervous, notthat I blame them. Most are ready to get into the fight. Sometimes they remind me of missing comradeswhose place they're taking, and I miss my old friends. We still have a ways to go in this noble struggleand we'll need the new faces to learn, engage and contribute quickly. As an Army chaplain I'll do mypart to comfort, encourage and inspire them through words, prayer and personal example. I know thesesoldiers will do their part.

Please pray for the new soldiers of the Raider Brigade, 4th Infantry Division. Pray they would learn andengage quickly and please pray for the families they leave behind back home. Thank you.


This Sunday, I was blessed by conducting a worship service for our infantry battalion. They are"Regulars, by God" and the name fits them well. It was a great morning with the battalion commanderproviding music to worship with.

After the service I joined the command group convoy for a combat patrol in and around Tikrit. It is goodto preach faith in Christ with words. It is also good to preach faith in Christ with actions. It was to be aneventful patrol.

We visited a grade school. Primitive by our standards, yet with the familiar array of noisy, curiousschoolchildren and wise women teachers dressed in black. The infantry commander became an agent forschool repair and upgrade.

The radio reported that an IED (Improvised Explosive Device) had exploded nearby. We sped to thescene. The wounded convoy was able to evacuate themselves. Like criminal investigators we scouredthe site looking for clues of the enemy's tactics. The explosive was set under a tree, perhaps in a plasticbag. A cratered sidewalk and scores of green leaves on the ground was all that was left. We found whatwe could and moved on.

We drove in and out of the wide and narrow streets of Tikrit. They remind me of other older cities. Afew times we came across a graffiti face of the deposed dictator. Someone had painted it recently, but itwould not stand for long. The battalion commander carefully selected his instrument of choice andproceeded to smash the walled portion with the graffiti face of the evil dictator. Then with the wisdomof experienced mental and physical combat, he pulled out his own can of spray paint and painted overthe residue of the evil man's face. As we drove, the translator pointed out anti-coalition slogans. Thecommander and his spray paint can put them out of business. We would move forward in this country,not back.

Later, we drove to the northern arches, cleverly named by some of us because they are large arches overthe northern part of the main highway. There the infantry commander became a diplomat. It was an IraqiMemorial Ceremony for a policeman who had been killed in the line of duty. It was similar tomemorials we would do for an American soldier. It was good to see some Iraqis honoring life, byhonoring their fallen comrade. The commander made a speech showing American support for the Iraqipolice.

From worship leader, to school renovator, criminal investigator, combat patrol leader, to diplomat andspeechmaker; such are the many and diverse challenges for this warrior and other combat leaders, asthey seek to bring peace and stability to this country.

Please pray for the leaders and families of the 1st Brigade Combat Team, 4th Infantry Division in Tikrit,Iraq. Pray they would be wise and courageous in all aspects of their leadership. Thank you.


Our brigade suffered two soldiers killed in action in two days early this very hard week. I sat andstruggled to write my prayer for the Memorial Ceremony. Frankly, it was hard. Why was it hard to write

a prayer? Perhaps, because I wasn't sure what to feel. Last weekend had been so great, with a couple ofsolid worship services where soldiers were grasping the concept of Growing in Christ.

Then on Monday night, a land mine exploded a young man's life and his bride and child's life backhome. He was a week from going home and had volunteered to go on the evening's patrol. His countryneeded soldiers so he went to Iraq. That night his unit needed soldiers so he went out into the darkness.Enemy fire and an enemy mine put an end to his night and his life. He'll be returning home now anotherway. Going home to his free and prosperous nation had its price.

Then on Tuesday, an RPG round sent another soldier to meet his Maker. This was a day patrol neardowntown Tikrit, home of the deposed dictator. Still evil men cling on and seek in vain to stop that whathas already been done. This soldier had an uncle who gave his life for his country on the fields ofVietnam. He saw what happened to our nation on September 11th 2001 and enlisted shortly thereafter tofight the war that brought down our buildings. But on this day the war brought him down and anothergeneration gave their lives so our nation can continue prosperous and secure.

Two soldiers in two days is a bit tough, even for me. I can only imagine how others felt. This is theeighth and ninth loss for our brigade combat team. I know that in battles of the past more have died in asingle day than all our losses here combined. Still each life lost is a tragedy and takes a bit of all of us,takes a bit of me. So, I struggled with my words. Words I can write, it is writing words from the heart that I seek. Yet, ifmy heart is unclear, the words are unclear. So I pray and write, pray and write. If this computer werepaper, I'd be one of those people with a pile of crumpled paper in the corner of the room. Then slowly,ever so slowly God reveals His words. His words are to acknowledge what is true about the deaths, thenacknowledge what is true about Him. God has not changed, what was true about Him yesterday is stilltrue today. Lastly, His words are to ask for His presence among us this day and always.

At the end of the day, my prayer looked something like this. I'll pray it at the Memorial tomorrow.

Dear God,

We come before you today to honor and remember two American soldiers who have given their lives todefend their families and their nation.

In the midst of this time, we acknowledge what is true, that you are indeed a great and mighty God. Yougive us life and hope. You preserve us from many, many of the enemy's wicked schemes. You love usand you protect us and you take care of our families while we are away.

So we thank you, thank you for our friends who have given their lives for their country and for us. Weseek to honor their sacrifice and remember them today. We pray you'll comfort their families backhome. And we pray now that you'll continue to be with us today and in the days to come.In Jesus name, Amen.


The morning broke over a large compound we call the Birthday Palace in central Tikrit. It is so namedbecause the deposed evil dictator had celebrated his birthday here before the regime change. TheMemorial Ceremony honoring the sacrifice of our two American soldiers was about to begin.

I walked up to the podium and approached God with my wrestled for invocation. The words came,asking God for His presence.

Then, the infantry battalion commander began by quoting Psalm 116. "For you, O Lord, have deliveredmy soul from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling . . . Precious in the sight of the Lord isthe death of his saints."The armor battalion commander quoted from Psalm 91. "You will not fear the terror of the night, nor thearrows that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness."

The battalion chaplain read Psalm 23. The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want . . . Even though I walkthrough the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me."

The biographer told their stories. One soldier was married with a young child at home. He had served atour in the Navy. Yet, after September 11, 2001 he felt called into the service of this nation again. Heserved his time and was scheduled to return home less than a week after his death. On that fatal night hisplatoon needed men for a patrol. His buddies needed him. He could have given in to fears and desires,but he wouldn’t, he couldn’t. Instead he volunteered for one more patrol to help out his dear brothersthat he’d be leaving shortly. He left them that night.

The second soldier volunteered for service after the terrorist attack upon his nation on that September11th. He proudly carried the middle name of his great uncle who was killed in Vietnam. Anothergeneration of Americans were serving and sacrificing their blood for their country overseas. Hissergeant said he was a rich kid, and sometimes would ask him why a rich kid volunteered for somethinglike this. "Because he could," was the answer.

The tall infantry company commander with his distinctly camouflaged helmet told all attending what hiswarriors already knew. They had crossed a distinct line and were now truly a band of brothers. For, "Hewho bleeds with me is my brother."

The honor guard fired their twenty-one gun salute into the air. They saluted the sacrifice of Americansoldiers where once evil men had saluted only themselves. Three times the seven rifles snapped theirsharp cracks into the morning air over Tikrit. The trumpeter played the sweet, sour tones of Taps. Asoloist sang Amazing Grace. Soldiers approached two by two to pay their last respects to their twobrothers. After a while I joined them. Moving forward, I quietly prayed, then saluted, then moved out.The Memorial was over.

Please pray for the soldier and families of the 1st Brigade Combat Team, 4th Infantry Division in Tikrit,Iraq. Please also pray for the families of those who have made the ultimate sacrifice in their nation’sservice and struggle to live their lives today. Thank you.

Raider Brigade Chaplain Update, Veteran’s Day 2003

"Chaplain, would you say a prayer for my fallen brothers?" "What?" I asked. We had been sitting in ourvehicles in a gravel parking lot. I had placed my head on my helmet and closed my eyes, having learnedit’s good to sleep whenever you have the chance, no matter the comfort level. Yet, God had awakenedme. And as I shook my dusty head awake, I noticed the camouflaged green vehicle next to us. A coupleof soldiers approached it and sat down. I noticed their "Screaming Eagles" patch of the 101st AirborneDivision (Air Assault). That’s when the proud soldier had looked at me with his soft, sad eyes and saidquietly, "Chaplain, would you say a prayer for my fallen brothers?" I asked him to explain. He said ahelicopter had been downed that day. I had heard about this, but didn’t know it was one of theirs. It was;I knew it was when this young hero named off the names of the crew, one by one, he named them off. Icould only begin to understand his level of grief. Of course I would pray for them, their families, for theothers soldiers in his unit and especially for him. Then we prayed in that gravel parking lot, blocking out

the rest of the world. "In Jesus name, Amen," we ended. He was better and off on his mission. I wasglad God woke me up.

This Veterans Day we remember our soldiers of the First Brigade Combat Team who have given theirlives for their friends, their family and their country. We also remember and pray for the families ofsoldiers who have fallen. It is very real to us that freedom is not free; in fact it takes hard work and isvery costly. These soldiers and families have paid the price for our freedom. "Would you say a prayerfor my fallen brothers’ families?"

LT Osbaldo Orozco Killed in Action April 2003PFC Jesse Halling Killed in Action June 2003SGT Steven White Killed in Action August 2003SSG Anthony Thompson Killed in Action September 2003SPC Richard Arriaga Killed in Action September 2003SPC James Wright Killed in Action September 2003PFC Analura Esparza Killed in Action October 2003SPC James Powell Killed in Action October 2003SPC Donald Wheeler Killed in Action October 2003SPC Artimus Brassfield Killed in Action October 2003299th ENG Soldier Killed in Action November 2003 Please also pray for the many, many soldiers and their families of the Raider Brigade who daily facehardship and dangers honorably as American soldiers in this continuing noble struggle. Thank you.

Raider Brigade Chaplain Update, 28 October 2003I went to visit the Engineer battalion. These men have been doing a first rate job. They are responsiblefor securing a stretch of road along Highway One to keep it free from IEDs (Improvised ExplosiveDevices) for the numerous military convoys that travel through it each day. They are also responsiblefor destroying the tons and tons of ammunition stored in numerous ASPs (Ammunition Supply Points)throughout the Tikrit area. By destroying this ammunition, they take away a source of the enemy’smunitions. They also make the country safer for Iraqi citizens who sometimes die trying to salvagematerials from these unstable ammunition storage sites.

On the wall of their battalion TOC (Tactical Operations Center) hangs all forms of captured weapons.They serve as a reminder of the accomplishments and dangers the men and women of this battalion livewith daily.

On this particular evening two engineer companies set up a TCP (Traffic Control Point) along HighwayOne. Later that night I went with their commander to visit this TCP. The soldiers, having learned frommany of these TCPs, had control of both sides of the Highway. In the darkness they stopped andsearched vehicles for contraband. I talked with several soldiers at that site. One soldier and I discussedformal religious education. He wanted to go to seminary one day and had his fair share of questions. Ianswered them the best I could. I never did see his face in the darkness, but we had a good talk on thatroad. One day he may be a great preacher and I never will have known who it was. We finished our timeand started back.

All that was left was a simple ride home, but this is Iraq and nothing is easy. We were close when wecame upon our own MPs (Military Police) blocking the road. They had spotted an IED up the road. Wepeered ahead. Through the headlight of the MP armored Humvees we saw a box in the middle of theroad. It could have been an ordinary box, or perhaps it contained explosives for an enemy waiting to kill

American soldiers. Who do you call to find out the answer to this question - the Engineers. From theirnearby base came the EOD (Explosive Ordinance Demolition) Team.

A brave soul emerged from the EOD vehicle like a gladiator of old. He walked alone in the darknessabout 100 meters to the suspected IED with just the vehicle headlights to guide him. We watched, or atleast I watched, in a fascinated gaze. He pulled out a flashlight and examined the box for wires, or othersigns of danger. He paused. We paused. Then he bent down to touch the box. To everyone’s relief, hedetermined that the box was of no danger. We breathed a sigh of relief and finished our trip home. Ifonly all suspected IEDs turned out like this, but they don’t. Thank you for praying for our safety. Thistime we all went home safely. Please pray for the courage and skill of the soldiers of the Raider BrigadeCombat Team, 4th Infantry Division in Tikrit, Iraq. Please also pray for their families back home. Thankyou.

Raider Brigade Chaplain Update, 3 November 2003

The armor battalion TOC (Tactical Operations Center) crackles with information and activity. Againstone wall sit captured enemy RPGs and AK-47s gathering dust. They lie before a bent portrait of theformer evil dictator, also now collecting dust. On the opposite wall an American flag stands proudly, notcollecting dust. Phones ring, computers hum, battle captains, operations officers, and radio operatorsperform their craft with the diligence and expertise gained with experience. A UAV (Unmanned AerialVehicle) monitor portrays real-time pictures of nearby city streets, scanning for enemy activity. Nearby,officers confer, and the Air Force liaison talks to jets as they thunder loudly overhead. I’m visiting herefor a few days. The battalion chaplain is back in the States on R&R leave. As his brigade chaplain, myresponsibility is to provide care for his soldiers while he is away.

I’ve been here a number of times before. Sadly, the last time was because of a Memorial Ceremony lastweek. A couple of soldiers had been killed in a mortar attack here. One soldier was in our brigade andbecame the tenth soldier who had sacrificed his life in this noble struggle. I came to assist in thepreparation for his Memorial. About twenty minutes after I had arrived I was reminded of my reason forbeing here. "Ka-Boom, Ka-boom," we were under mortar attack. It was rather rude. Still, God kept ussafe. So thank you for praying for us. Immediately following the mortar attack, I went to check forcasualties and visit soldiers in the camp. God kept us safe and there were no casualties. The soldierswere generally annoyed at the attack and went on with their business.

I visited the site where our soldiers had been killed the week before. I saw the craters where the mortarrounds had hit and the nearby tent where an American soldier had stood and fallen. I entered the tent,now a hollow memorial to the slain American. I noted the perforated sides with its many holes testifyingto the shrapnel that had entered it with a killing force from the outside. I placed my fingers in the holes.There was no doubt what had happened. The mortar hit outside the tent, killing and wounding thoseinside.

The battalion’s Memorial Ceremony honored the soldiers. The soloist, awards, kind words from leadersand friends, honor guard firing its 21-gun salute, and finally Taps all honored the service and sacrifice ofthese soldiers. These men like others before them had died defending their country from terrorism. Theyhad also died defending their friends in Iraq and family back home from evil. The mission here wouldgo on. These soldiers live with evil and danger up close and they continue the mission. Charlie-Mike,Continue the Mission.

Please pray for the families of those who have made the ultimate sacrifice in their nation’s service.Please also pray for the soldiers and families of the 1st Brigade Combat Team, 4th Infantry Divisionwho daily continue the mission in Tikrit, Iraq. Thank you.


A week had passed since the armor battalion’s Memorial Ceremony. Now I continued my current visitby dropping in on the battalion aid station. Medics who treat our wounded are always good to visit. Inoted one of the medics was winning a chess game and asked if he wanted to play a match. We spentsome time playing chess and talking. Somewhere between knights and bishop, we were jolted byanother set of jarring thunder, "Ka-Boom, Ka-boom." Another mortar attack was underway and the timefor games was over. After the mortars took a pause, it was time for me to check for casualties and visitsoldiers. First, I checked in with the TOC to see there were any casualties. Thankfully, there were none.God had kept us safe again, so again thank you for praying for us. Then I went room by room around thecamp checking on soldiers, visiting, encouraging with the comfort and hope that Christ can provide evenwhen under mortar attack.

A call came over the radio. Two American trucks were reportedly on fire somewhere nearby,presumably having been attacked. The battalion scouts formed the QRF (Quick Reaction Force) andprepared themselves and their armored vehicles for a search and rescue mission. The doctor quicklygathered two medics and asked to come along. Caring for the Wounded is also a Chaplain’s domain andI too asked to come along. We all found seats among the scouts. There would likely be casualties andwe were all going together to help them.

The QRF launched out the gate headed toward the reported location. I thought wistfully, perhaps thisreport is mistaken or exaggerated. However, war seldom allows for wistful thoughts. The smoke risinghigh into the sky dispersed any such notions. In the flat open desert terrain we soon saw the flames toour front. We arrived. There were indeed two trucks on fire. We drove by them looking for thesurvivors, looking for casualties. But there were none. The scouts skillfully secured the area byestablishing blocking positions on both sides of the highway. One truck was apparently towing the otherwhen an explosive force hit the rear truck. Yet, there were no other soldiers in the area. It was eerie for amoment, until we realized that the other vehicles in the ill-fated convoy must have recovered their ownsoldiers and sped onto safety or perhaps medical aid. I was also comforted with the thought that thevehicle being pulled was hardest hit, and most likely was not manned as it was being towed.

We investigated around the site and found a crater about 100 meters away. In the crater we found a greatdeal of shrapnel giving evidence of one or two detonated artillery shells. They had been placed in thedirt median, next to a guardrail. This portion of the guardrail had been blown across two lanes of trafficand now laid on the dirt off the side of the road as a testament to the force of the explosion. Wecompleted our investigation and went back home. In this case there would be no casualties to ministerto, and I was glad.

Later that night I conducted a worship service and offered the Lord’s Supper for the soldiers in thecamp. We gave thanks for no casualties, our safety so far and prayed for our families back home. Weinvite you to join us and pray likewise. Thank you for your prayers.


It’s gotten colder up here in northern central Iraq. The weather reports have daily decreed temperaturesfrom the mid-50’s to mid-70’s. However, to the soldier on the ground in chilled early morning and thechaplain next to him it feels much colder. Such was the case yesterday morning. My link-up with theengineers was scheduled for 0715. It was really not that early, but when I walked up to the vehicle fullof sappers they were dressed much warmer than I was. I soon learned why. We drove over a half hour tothe southernmost enemy ASP (Ammunition Supply Point) in the brigade. The engineer chaplain is onmid-tour leave and I was going to visit with his soldiers in what we call area coverage.

With two soldiers to my front in the vehicle and two to my back, I felt about as safe as I could be. One isnever really safe in Iraq. We stopped, or at least I stopped thinking about being safe a long time ago.With mortar attacks, mines, IEDs, RPGs, etc. etc., I make my best tactical and security decisions, prayand move out with my ministry.

We drove south on Highway One at high speeds with the cold wind in our faces. We drove west towardthe desert ASP with blowing sand in our faces. These sappers work to destroy enemy ammunition anddeny their use to the enemy. We finally arrived at the sparse forward base of these soldiers. Sparse is anunderstatement. A couple of aluminum frames of building and a cold concrete floor offer almost nowarmth and hospitality. On one side, a group of soldiers huddled around a fire in a cut-off 55-galloncan. I had come with other soldiers bringing breakfast. I quickly introduced myself to the leadership andgrabbed up a bunch of plates and flatware to hand out to the cold and hungry soldiers. This way I couldmeet each of them and look each of them in the eye to encourage him in their service.

I met and talked briefly with each soldier. After all were served I gathered my breakfast and joined thesoldiers huddled around the fire. They wore various garbs about the neck, head and body to try and keepwarm. They looked like cold, dust caked soldiers who have been living and working in a dirty,dangerous, dustbowl destroying munitions for some time. They were great. My runny scrambled eggsand cold potatoes rarely tasted so good as in the company of these fine men. These soldiers and manymore like them, daily live and work in hardship and danger to keep their friends, family, and people theydon’t even know safe from terrorists back home. Many know that our choice is to fight terrorist here orfight them on the streets, stores and restaurants of our cities and towns. I finished my breakfast, thankedthem for letting me join them and blessed them.

Soon another group joined us. Iraqi citizens with AK-47s piled out of an American driven truck. Theyformed up into a loose military formation. These new arrivals were members of the ICDC (Iraqi CivilianDefense Corps). The American engineer battalion had trained, uniformed and equipped them. Now theseIraqis would help the Americans in their force protection tasks. This security force and others like themare the future of Iraq, protecting and building their own country. Some American soldiers gave themboots recently captured from evil men. Their weapons were also primarily captured from enemy forces.The ICDC leaders wore the Americans’ regimental patch; proud to be associated with winners and afuture that has hope for them and their country. Everyone does their part. Soon they marched off to dotheirs. At least here, American and Iraqi would work together to do their part for a stable and securefuture.

Please pray for Raider Brigade, 4th Infantry Division soldiers who daily risk their lives for fellowAmericans back home. Please also pray for the families who wait for their loved ones to return. Thankyou.

Raider Brigade Chaplain Update, Thanksgiving 2003

I returned from a three-day visit of leaders, soldiers and battalion unit ministry teams in the 1st BrigadeCombat Team. I was thankful to be home, at least my home in Iraq. It was evening and tomorrow wouldbe Thanksgiving Day. I heard the buzz of anticipation among the soldiers regarding the coming day’sThanksgiving feast.

But first, this evening we would give thanks to our God. Tonight, carrying on an Army tradition weconducted a Thanksgiving Service at Raider Chapel. We prayed to our God, sang songs, read Scripture,and heard about thankfulness, peace and contentment from the Book of Philippians. The soldiers had notrouble thinking of things for which they were thankful. They were thankful to be alive, a condition nottaken for granted here in north-central Iraq. They were thankful to be relatively healthy and safe. And

they were all thankful for their families. It was a good and proper expression of thanks to our Creatorand Sustainer.

The next day was turkey day. Twice before I have been deployed during Thanksgiving, in Desert Storm& Bosnia. Twice before the Army and Army cooks had provided excellent, excellent meals. This yearwas no exception. I arrived a few minutes early as invited to give the opening devotion and blessings.When the crowd gathered and the time came, I reminded them of how much we have to be thankful forbefore God. Of how we could be thankful for each other, our families and our way of life back home.And how one day in the future, when we are with those we love on Thanksgiving Day, we could lookback on this day and say we were soldiers, fighting and sacrificing for future Thanksgivings back home.Then we prayed to God thanking Him for our great meal.

Another fine Army tradition is that leaders serve younger soldiers on Thanksgiving Day. I took myplace behind the turkey meat and picked up a serving fork. Our Brigade Operations Officer stood next tome serving Cornish hen and roasted ham, next to him another officer served roast beef. Mashedpotatoes, yams, stuffing, gravy and two types of vegetables rounded out the main entrees. There wasshrimp and shrimp sauce to feast on, eggnog and sparkling cider to drink, and many, many differentkinds of pies, salads and condiments. No soldier went hungry on Thanksgiving Day. We feasted andenjoyed this special day and break from our normal routine.

The brigade commander planned a tour to visit his soldiers on Thanksgiving Day. So after the feast,along with the operations sergeant major, we began our tour. We visited soldiers from every battalion inthe brigade combat team. Collectively, we thanked them and wished them a Happy Thanksgiving andGod’s blessing upon them. We visited soldiers at FOBs, TCPs, ASPs, and an OP. (That is to say,Forward Operating Bases, Traffic Control Points, Ammunition Supply Points, and an ObservationPoint.) It was a long day. We ended late at night by visiting with infantry soldiers on patrol in downtownTikrit. It seemed an appropriate way to end the day, saying thank you to soldiers keeping us safe onThanksgiving Day.

Please pray for American soldiers protecting their families and country by fighting for them far awayfrom home. Specifically, please pray for the soldiers and families of the 1st Brigade Combat Team(Raiders), 4th Infantry Division. Thank you.


"The Lord giveth & the Lord taketh away." With these words began a brief but difficult discourse that was my honor to present, the chaplain’smessage at a Memorial Ceremony for an American soldier killed in action.

It all began a couple of tough weeks ago. First, a young engineer died. He and others were patrolling anenemy ASP (Ammunition Supply Point) when an antitank mine tore through his tracked vehicle andhuman body. We honored him as we do all our fallen soldiers. The battalion commander, chaplain andfriends spoke of his meaningfulness and uniqueness. The honor guard fired a twenty-one gun salutefrom the large balcony of the soldier’s headquarters and the bugler played the long, mournful tones ofTaps. "Day is done, gone the sun," begins the lyrics of Taps. Yet in this case an American soldier’s dayis done. He has sacrificed his life for his family, friends and country and gone is a son. He was theeleventh soul who volunteered to be part of the service and had given his life on the field of honor innorth central Iraq.

Then, about a week later enemy munitions mortally wounded another engineer. He languished for abouta week. Being evacuated to the States he had the best medical care our country could give him. His

friends languished with him here. Then he too died, quietly in a hospital room. I was saddened to hear ofhis death. I’m sure many others were too. He was the twelfth soldier killed in action in our brigadecombat team. His name was Scott. However, by this time the battalion chaplain had gone to the Stateson mid-tour leave. Thus, as his brigade chaplain it was my honor to fulfill the chaplain’s role in thesoldier’s memorial. First, I needed to learn more about this sapper while providing comfort and hope tothe friends he had left behind. As I learned, God gave me the words to say.

"The Lord gave us Scott for a season. Our Almighty God gave us Scott so he may be a noble son to hisfamily and a caring friend to his brothers and sisters in the Pioneers. And God gave us Scott to be asoldier, an American soldier. Scott lived and fought for his family at home and for his friends here onthe battlefields of central Iraq. Like so many of us, Scott was a guardian of freedom and the Americanway of life. He fought for freedom from terrorists hurting our families and he fought to protect thequality of life we’ve all come to know and enjoy back home."

As I spent time at his unit listening and talking to soldiers who knew Scott, I was left with a couple ofimpressions. First, Scott had good friends. He was close to his small group of friends and they to him.Second, he was a soldier. He had died from mortal wounds received while wearing the uniform andboots of an American soldier. A small American flag proudly defined this sapper’s right shoulder. Sowhen the time came, I focused on these themes.

"God also gave Scott a mission; to be an engineer, a sapper, working like you with deadly capturedenemy ammunition. Denying that ammunition to the enemy. Saving countless lives by preventing theton and tons of explosives and bullets to be used against us, his brothers and sisters in arms. On the doorin the Charlie Company area there is a sign; perhaps you’ve seen it. It says, "Remember Them." We’vetaken the time to remember Scott today, his friendship and his sacrifice."

I looked out for a moment. A Memorial Ceremony is to honor those killed, yet is for those living. To myfront hundreds of living soldiers would face deadly munitions and many other dangers tomorrow. Mythoughts and words now moved to them and for them.

"Yet we also remember our own purpose and mission in life.""Our purpose is to glorify God, our mission to serve honorably as soldiers. Not just ordinary men andwomen going through life but soldiers, American soldiers, serving on the field of honor in central Iraq.Soldiers who guard our country from terrorists and soldiers who protect the way of life we want to gohome to one day, by fighting for it here and now."

"Scott’s mission is complete. Yet our mission is not complete. God has also given us a mission. He hasgiven us a higher calling for this season, for such a time as this."

Glancing one more look at the desert uniforms and dusty helmets of these brave American soldiers infront of me I closed with these words.

"God says:There is a season for everything under the sun.A time to be born and a time to die.A time to dance and a time to mourn.A time for peace and a time for war"

"This is the time to persevere in our noble struggle. This is the time to draw our strength, wisdom andenergy from God. This is the time to remember the life and sacrifice of Scott and others like him. This isthe time to serve and sacrifice for our country and each other, as soldiers, American soldiers. In doing so

we honor God. Thus, the Lord gives us purpose in life and missions to accomplish and it is our duty andhonor to fulfill that purpose and complete our mission. May God bless us in the days to come. Amen."

Amen indeed. Please pray for the soldiers and families in the Raider Brigade, 4th Infantry Division.Pray for their success and safety, perseverance and protection. Please also pray for the families of thosewhose day is done, gone the son. Thank you.

Raider Brigade Chaplain Update, 13 December 2003

Speaking against the king of Babylon, the Bible says, "How the oppressor has come to an end! How hisfury has ended! The Lord has broken the rod of the wicked, the scepter of the rulers, which in angerstruck down peoples with unceasing blows and in fury subdued nations with relentless aggression."Isaiah 14

This is the story of the night we caught Saddam. Much has been written about the operational aspects ofthis night. I’ll tell you about one chaplain’s perspective. About three months ago a battalion commanderasked me to join him and others to pray that Saddam Hussein, deposed dictator, evil oppressor, wouldbe captured or killed. Over the next few weeks a group of us would pray as such. I’m sure we were notthe only ones praying, for God saw fit to answer these prayers.

It began as a normal evening, with the normal routine of eating the normal Army supper. As I finished,our brigade surgeon mentioned a big raid was to occur soon and that the battle staff should muster in theTOC (Tactical Operation Center). So off I went. Saddam has been called many things in my world: TheAce of Spades, HVT1 (High Value Target #1), and Elvis for the many alleged sighting of this man. Oneofficer even called him the "great white whale" referring to the seemingly fruitless hunts for Moby Dick.I have sat in on these Elvis raids before. In the early days, I would grab my beef jerky for these specialoccasions and if necessary, to help keep awake. Tonight, I took up my position and read every reportwithin arms reach as things were developing.

All started promising, as it usually does. The assault team was gathered and poised, conducting lastminute coordination. There was certainly enough backup to coordinate. Everyone knew well how theevil tyrant’s two sons had fought savagely to the end. No one expected anything less from the deposeddespot with fanatical followers. The time had come and the charge was on. We watched the blue dots ofthe vehicles trace the electronic maps to our front. Then, as if on cue, the city lights went out in AdDawr. God had seemingly turned off the lights to assist the assault force, as we certainly did not have amaster light switch. Special Operation forces working with our forces assaulted the target compounds.After a brief moment we heard that two HVT1 enablers or assistants were captured. This wasn’t too bad,I thought and rather typical, a couple of henchmen, but no sign of Elvis.

Then something curious happened; we heard a message from our commander different from what we’dexpected. After so long we know the routine and know when something is different. It gave us cause topause and wonder. Could it be? No, we thought. We murmured and guessed in the TOC as to themeaning of this cryptic message. One officer took bets on if we had actually caught HVT1. Some betno, I bet yes, but said it was because I wanted it to be, more than believing it could be actually,wonderfully true. Then another message came in even more remarkable than the first, but making itclear to us that something unusual and perhaps amazing had happened. Still, communication silence onthe subject was ordered and only added to the mystery. We waited impatiently, wondering, fearing tobelieve such great news could in fact be true. Helicopters, tanks, and many, many men had preparedwith their fierce weapons. Yet, none had been necessary. It was only when our portion of the assaultcrew returned that we mobbed them to find out what had happened. Amazement and sheer unbelief met

the reality that something so critical, so sought for, so elusive for so long, had so quickly, quickly cometo be without a massive firefight. The whole assault to capture phase had taken less than an hour.

Suddenly smiles and cigars were the order of the day. Unbelievable only begins to describe theevening’s atmosphere, sheer amazement. It was Saturday night. We watched the news, the chatter of thecelebrity of the day in legal woes droned on repeatedly. Tomorrow, I thought, this will not be the newsand you don’t even know it yet. It was sweet. However, we had to keep the capture a secret whilenational level agencies went to work. Portions of our entire camp would soon know and had to keep thesecret until otherwise ordered. In almost twenty-four hours that followed no one would let out the secret,even with reporters snooping about for a story. For the moment, Saddam’s capture was ours to savor,relish and give thanks to God. It was truly a special moment in time.

The Bible continues to speak about the king of Babylon, "Those who see you stare at you, they ponderyour fate: Is this the man who shook the earth and made kingdoms tremble, the man who made theworld a desert. Who overthrew its cities and would not let his captives go home?" Isaiah 14

Thank you very much for praying for the soldiers and families of the 1st Brigade Combat Team(Raiders), 4th Infantry Division. Without your prayers the capture of Saddam Hussein without death,wounding or even a fight would not have happened. God saw fit to answer many of your prayers. Thankyou very much.


"Immediately what had been said about Nebuchadnezzar was fulfilled. He was driven away from peopleand ate grass like cattle. His body was drenched with the dew of heaven until his hair grew like feathersof an eagle and his nails like the claws of a bird." Daniel 4

The next day I traveled to what would become known as Saddam’s hole. The world at large did not yetknow of the capture. Some of the soldiers who had participated in the raid did not yet know. Still, othersdid. Those who had been part of the force described it, "just like another raid, Sir." It was still amazing.Soldiers also said to a man how the capture of Saddam made all they had been through worth it. Theseparation, the long nights, the guard duty, the endless combat patrols and raids were all worth itknowing they were a personally a part of the biggest capture of the war.

Others recognized Saddam’s capture as a testament to the months of cooperation and teamwork betweenSpecial Operation forces and our forces. Truly it was a joint operation. The men and women of theSpecial Forces rejoiced as much as we did and had good reason to celebrate. All their months of hard,dangerous work had paid off in a small, dirty hole on a December night. Still their work, faces and evennames remain secret. One radio conversation on the night of the capture went like this:Special Forces: "Get ready to smile for the cameras."Our forces: "You get ready to smile."Special Forces: "We can’t do that."

Still, these brave warriors know their deeds and the resulting great sense of accomplishment. Aftervisiting the hole we went to where the Special Forces were staying. A couple of our command groupwent inside to talk to them. Most of us stayed outside. Yet, one of them was kind enough to comeoutside, spend some time with us and give us his account of the great capture. It spoke highly of theteamwork and professionalism of these soldiers and made a great impression with our soldiers.

I would visit Saddam’s hole place twice in the week. I had a chance to go more times, but twice isenough. Ad Dawr is called Al Dour locally. It is a similar but smaller town than Tikrit and sits off the

east side of the Tigris River to the south. There is a great water tower as you enter the town from thenorth. It is right after this water tower that you turn off the main road to a series of side roads, whichleads to the house. The pavement ends and soon you are on a dirt road running past dirt fields of yourleft. Helicopters regularly landed here. This dirt road ends at an entryway leading to a large compoundwith more fields. The dirt road winds though the larger compound until you reach a walled-in housingcompound. It is like many I have seen. The entrance is a small archway that opens up to a cement patioin the center of the compound. There is a one-room house to your left and a covered patio adjacent to itthat serves as a kitchen. An outdoor latrine sits behind the kitchen. A large orchard of oranges sitsopposite the entrance and housed a boat. To the right of the entrance is a small yard with lots of trashand another boat. This was roughly the primitive surroundings with which the toppled tyrant had clothedhimself. Off the edge of the patio, opposite the entrance archway, is the hole; the famous/infamous hole.It is no bigger than three feet long and two feet wide. With full combat gear on, it would be difficult toget in the hole. It was designed as a hideout with red brick walls, an air exhaust fan and a shortnon-functioning fluorescent light. On my second visit I crawled into the hole and decided I could live init, for about five minutes.

The bedroom was a mess, a bed, books, and a small refrigerator cluttered the space rather than serving areal purpose. Inside the fridge were hot dogs. How odd, I thought then picked them up to see that theywere not filled with pork. The kitchen also seems functional, but a wreck. The hole had been coveredwith a block-shaped piece of Styrofoam. The top of the Styrofoam had been scraped out to add a layerof dirt for camouflage. On top of the Styrofoam brick had been a mat hiding the great hideout.

I took plenty of pictures; everyone took pictures. In fact for a couple of weeks or more it was a regularmedia circus at our location and the site of the hole. On my second visit reporters even took pictures ofus taking pictures. But such is the price of victory, and that’s fine. At the end of my second visit I sawand grabbed hold of an orange dangling over Saddam’s hole. With a deep and meaningful tug I pulled itoff the tree. Then looking at a young commander whom I’ve come to know in multiple memorials forfour of his soldiers killed in action, I added, "This is for the guys that are not coming home." ChristmasDay would come soon and this orange would help me celebrate the birth of Christ.

Thank you again very much for praying for the soldiers and families of the 1st Brigade Combat Team(Raiders), 4th Infantry Division. Your prayers helped lead to the capture of Saddam Hussein without anAmerican death, being wounded, or even a deadly battle. God saw fit to answer your prayers. Thank youagain so very much for praying.

Raider Brigade Chaplain Update, 16-19 December 2003

I live on the periphery of death. Every time a soldier dies, some, reminded of their own mortality, shyaway from their death and friends. But my call as an Army Chaplain is to move into that dark void, tocounsel souls in grief and those who raced to save a life but lost. My calling has seen me arrange,supervise or participate in many, many, too many memorial ceremonies. These memorials are painful towatch, even more painful to be a part of. Death does not usually scare me, but sometimes it does. Onesuch time was in Samarra.

As a brigade chaplain I regularly venture through the northern streets of Samarra. I go to see mybattalion chaplains, unit leaders and escort the Catholic priest, brave and kind enough to join us tominister to Catholic soldiers. As an unarmed man of God, I literally drive my vehicle and my assistantliterally rides shotgun, though with his black M-16 rifle. One day in late fall I was maneuvering throughSamarra. We passed over bridges and through traffic circles. Hooded men with rifles hunkered about atvarious points. I wondered if they worked for us or were the enemy. Later another chaplain remarked,"Just look which way their weapons are pointing, Sir." "Fine," I thought.

On this journey we approached a traffic circle. Ahead a commotion brewed to the left. Cars stopped.Men ran out, waved about and pointed. My heart beat faster, were we about to be attacked? I looked leftand drove right, a tactical error. My tires hit the edge of the curb and I had to correct. I was mad. Mad,because I had been scared and it had distracted me. Mad because I had let my crew and myself down. Ihad blinked and it was not a good feeling.

So, when the time came for Operation Ivy Blizzard, I was more than anxious to contribute. Thisoperation was the long awaited, too long needed, take down of Samarra. I knew in an action this size Icould find a place to minister. I wanted to defeat my past fears and sought a place in Samarra’s SpecialForces building with the medics. However, battalion chaplains were assigned to this position andrightfully so. Consequently, I covered a chaplain’s vacancy left in the staging FOB (Forward OperatingBase).

Upon arriving soldiers were in the course of final preparations. Infantryman cleaned their weapons,rested and read. Military policemen prepared their trucks and detainee holding compound. Combatengineers prepared their boats, as they would conduct river patrols at night and attack to clear islands onthe Tigris in the early day. Tankers fueled their tanks and chaplains prayed. I spoke with a number ofsoldiers and commanders and prayed with them.

I got some rest, then was up at 0100 for the 0200 attacks. This time I based out of the forwardbattalion’s TOC (Tactical Operations Center). On the digital map, hoards of moving blue icons tracedthe oncoming rush of infantry, tanks and other American soldiers into the dark city. Boom! Anexplosion punctured our professional headquarters facade. We quickly sought the source and werethankful to learn it was from our guys. Many such booms would sound through the night.

The darkness thought about giving way to the dawn. Men made ready to take food to the attackingsoldiers in the city. I knew this was where I needed to be. So with the base chaplain assistant we went tothe ICDC (Iraqi Civil Defense Corps) headquarters in Samarra, and set up outside. Shortly afterarriving, a field ambulance rushed by, hurrying off a wounded engineer officer. He would be fine. TheICDC headquarters could scarcely be called a building, rustic by any standards, condemnable byAmerican measure. Outside, a rusted heap without wheels sat underneath a tarp. I was glad it did notdisguise a car bomb. Yet, this place was home to the ICDC, many Americans soldiers this day, and ourresupply point. Soon soldiers came in for food and fuel. We talked to many brave warriors that morning,providing encouragement and practical help. During a pause, we walked to the river’s edge behind thebuilding. Engineers in black river boats were returning from the night’s river patrol and morning islandassaults. The ICDC, some with hoods on, brought in a prisoner they said was Fedeyeen and searched hispapers. It was a good morning.

Night fell. The ensuing moonlight and daybreak would see a similar choreography. At first light wejourneyed to different quadrants of the city in our resupply mission. At a destroyed base camp we fedand encouraged tankers at a misty checkpoint. We traveled to the Special Forces building where twobrave chaplains worked with their battalion medics. Then we returned to the ICDC headquarters. Tanksguarded traffic circles and bridges; ICDC made vehicle checks. By the end of the third day the brunt ofthe operation was concluded and the base camp chaplain returned to relieve me.

I have traveled through Samarra a few times since those days. When I next drove the same route, it waswith stubborn determination. It doesn’t matter what happens, I told myself, I’m going to drive and mygunners can fight it out. But the honed edge of tension in the city is reduced. Now, the men guarding thebridges no longer wear masks and all seems a bit better. Things can still scare me, but after OperationIvy Blizzard this city is a little less nerve wracking. Please pray for our brave American soldiers whomregularly conduct fierce fighting in the cities of Iraq to defend their families and cities back home.

Specifically, please pray for the soldiers and families of the 1st Brigade Combat Team (Raiders), 4thInfantry Division. Thank you.


I attended an award ceremony today, 16 February 2004. Souls had medals pinned on their chest forcommendation and valor. The citations framed their actions, but could never express the emotion ofwhat had happened. It had happened on Christmas Eve.

I had told my battalion chaplains to minister well over the Christmas season, especially on ChristmasEve. From my past two major deployments, I said, lingered vivid memories of Christmas Eve, some notnecessarily good. This Christmas Eve in Iraq was no exception. All began well on this day before wecelebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. The morning update had just finished when we began to get sketchyreports of terrorists attacking one of our convoys with an IED (Improvised Explosive Device). These arealways bad, but today we heard worse, there had been death. Others and I had sick feelings in ourstomachs. Then another report said it was not our convoy. Different officers scurried to find out moreinformation through different channels. When all was done, we learned our men had indeed been on thescene of the fatal attack. They had provided security and assistance, but it was still a tragedy. Christmasfor some families will be ruined for many years, I thought, and they do not even know it yet.Life went on. The commander had wanted to visit his soldier and I wanted to go with him. So off wewent from north to south in the brigade area of operation, stopping to say hello, speak with, and wish aMerry Christmas to many, many fine soldiers.

We returned in ample time for supper and to prepare for our forthcoming Christmas Eve CandlelightService. All was ready. We had scrounged up some candles and index cards. I had asked the firstsergeant for a one-hole punch. Candles would go in the punched holes of the index cards to make sureno one burned their fingers. I was literally walking from my room to the chapel when the companycommander of the convoy affected in the morning’s attack stopped me outside the chapel. He asked if Icould talk to some of his soldiers. He said it was a horrible experience and that his soldiers were prettybadly shaken-up. My mind was definitely elsewhere, but I agreed to talk to them after the Christmas EveService.

The Candlelight Service went very well. We prayed for those that would get knocks on their doors onChristmas Eve or Day. Either way it would be a terribly tragic Christmas for them. We sang Christmascarols. American soldiers over the years have sung "Silent Night" with a bit more meaning when faraway from home, fighting for their families and country in a foreign land. "Silent Night, Holy Night, allis calm, all is bright." It was a sweet refrain.

I wished the evening could have ended there, "Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace." Butthis is not my calling.

I am an Army Chaplain. So, instead, I left my comforts and song and went into a world of hurt and grief.Men sat around a room, looking at nothing in particular except what kept repeating in their mind’s eye.It was an IED on the median of Highway 1, just south of Samarra. They all thought of the families of thesoldiers killed, not of themselves. It was very commendable. Still, as we talked, the sights, sounds andsmells came back all too clearly. It had been another dangerous trip outside our own brigade area ofoperation. The traffic had slowed to reveal a wrecked American convoy. Soldiers of that convoy weredistraught and leaderless. Our men did what they knew had to be done based on training, experience andintuition. They provided security, rendered first aid and called in medical evacuation. This was roughenough, but there was more. One soldier described how he went about recovering pieces that had oncebeen a human body. Two soldiers were killed instantly, a captain and a major, though apparently one

was conscious for a few moments just before dying. Another soul described the sickening sight ofhuman skid marks across the pavement leading to torn clothing and flesh. Another man told blankly ofjust walking around picking up pieces of wrecked flesh and equipment.

A sergeant from the stricken vehicle was severely wounded. The men described a race to save him.They depicted treating him the best they could, while calling for helicopter evacuation. Help wascoming, then it was delayed, and then it was coming. The soldiers portrayed an agonizing drama morereal than any reality show. Off the side of a highway in north-central Iraq, these men fought their owndesperate battle to save another man’s life. They used their own bandages and others they could find andput two IV’s into him. Where was the helicopter they thought? Two men had died already, now theywanted so badly to save this one. The torn hearts that night described talking to their wounded charge,urging him to hang on while they all torturously waited for a helicopter. Chaos still loomed about, butfor these men it came down to a race of life or death. Finally, finally, they could hear the whop, whopsounds of the evacuation helicopter in the distance. The exhausted soldiers put their critically woundedcharge in the doors of the flying ambulance.

"What happened then," I asked. These men described how they gathered the survivors and remains oftwo dead Americans and drove to the nearest base camp, slowly because of traffic. On the way there,they had to endure the looks and jeers of those pointing at the body bags in the back seats. "Drive likeyou’re driving the President of the United States," the company commander said to his driver. Theyfinally arrived at their sanctuary. They had endured so much, so suddenly and violently. The men weresafe. But, they had to go check on their charge, the wounded sergeant. This life they had held in theirhands was the only bright spot of the nightmare. They had fought their own private war to save him andhad kept him alive until the helicopter arrived. One of the men just looked at me and said what they allknew, the sergeant died in the helicopter on the way to the hospital. All three were married.For most, Christmas was about good things, but not for these men, not this year. They had done all andmore than could be expected; the medals would reflect this. But this would be a Christmas they wouldnot forget soon – and neither will I. "Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace."

Please pray for our American soldiers who fight physical battles here and later must fight emotionalones, and for the families of those who will not be home for Christmas. Specifically, please pray for thesoldiers and families of the 1st Brigade Combat Team (Raiders), 4th Infantry Division. Thank you.


"What day is it today," asked Ebenezer Scrooge. The young page replied excitedly, "It’s ChristmasDay!" Today was indeed Christmas Day, a day of great hope. At long last it was finally here. Today thecommander continued his trek to personally see soldiers from units across the brigade and I joinedalong. First though, we were to host a Christmas visit by the Secretary of the Army.

The visit was to be at a place called ICDC (Iraqi Civilian Defense Corps) Island. Though officially it isnamed for two soldiers killed early in our part of the war. We watched the ICDC training. It's like ArmyBasic Training, Iraqi style. They stood inspection, marched and had a first aid class taught by anAmerican medic through an interpreter. "They're rough," the captain in charge said, "Many do not readand write, but they're brave and you can’t bribe them." The ICDC I’ve seen are proud to be associatedwith the US Army and have performed above and beyond what was expected of them. The captain and Iboth agreed that forces like these are the future of Iraq and our hope for not returning here again andagain.

We went to a large base camp near Bayji to wish soldiers a Merry Christmas. Then we returned toRaider Base to enjoy our Christmas meal. Here we ate our feast. Food, and more food extraordinaire.

The Army and Army cooks go all out on Thanksgiving and Christmas. I sat with friends and enjoyed themoment. Then we went for more visits to see soldiers at three other locations. I said "Merry Christmas,""Thank you for being here," and "Blessings," many times today. It was a good day full of hope for thefuture.

Later on in the TOC (Tactical Operations Center) as the evening grew darker I considered retiring, thenI saw it. An orange had been sitting at my workstation for a few days now. Not any orange but theorange I had plucked from Saddam's tree above his final hiding place. If I could keep it, I would, but itwould turn bad. Still it symbolized hope, that our past and continuing hard work and sacrifices wasbringing positive results. So I ate this special orange in the TOC where I was when the deposed evildictator was captured. As I was eating, our brigade intelligence officer walked by. With an air of secrecyand juice lingering on my fingers and lips I asked him, "Do you know what I'm doing?" Withoutblinking he answered, "You're eating one of Saddam's oranges." "You're a smart guy," I said. Guessthat's why he's the intelligence officer that caught Saddam. A young soldier came up to me and saidhappily, "I could smell that orange clear across the TOC." I told her it was Saddam's orange. "It smellsgood and sweet, she said." "It is sweet," I said with a smile, "in many ways."

Please pray that our American soldiers would know the hope of Christmas as they fight terrorists faraway from home this day and everyday. Specifically, please pray for the soldiers and families of the 1stBrigade Combat Team (Raiders), 4th Infantry Division. Thank you.


It was New Year’s Eve, a day and night Americans usually reserve for celebration. It was to be a busyday and even busier night. All the camp was in preparation for our Patch Ceremony. This PatchCeremony was to officially designate the day soldiers of this brigade had earned and could wear the 4thInfantry Division Combat Patch on their right uniform sleeve.

It was to be a nighttime ceremony with an air of festivity. Torches were prepared. Spotlights were set.The embedded news crew set up on top of a nearby building for a telecast. Night slowly fell. Firstthough, we would have a rehearsal. My role as an Army chaplain was to present the invocation, toinvoke God’s presence upon our evening, give thanks for His blessings of the past year, and pray Hisblessings upon our New Year. The timing had to be exact, so we practiced. When it was my turn, Imessed up; my timing was off and threw others off the precisely laid program. It was terrible. As Ipassed my commander I could only look down and shake my head in disappointment, saying, "I know,sir." However, I was determined to do this correctly in the actual ceremony. I lightened my load ofequipment, prayed and went over my part and the timing again and again. Flag unfurled. The lightsbegan to point their beams brightly. The ceremony was moments away. A small inner voice assured me,it’ll be perfect – and it was. What a fine festive ceremony. After the prayers, speeches and music,military flares and star clusters of different brilliant hues shot into the night sky. With dignified militarypageantry we were bringing in the New Year. This was followed by a reception, in which the cooksprepared a fine cuisine of American regional specialties to help in the celebration.

But the night was still young; it was after all New Year’s Eve. What better way to celebrate than toconduct raids against evil men known to be selling weapons to other foul men trying to kill Americans.We drove to downtown Tikrit where infantrymen were doing infantry work. On a dark street cornerpeering down a darkened lane, I talked to a couple of young soldiers. One said he was from Peru, SouthAmerica. We talked briefly in Spanish right then and there on that street corner in Tikrit. I said, "Godbless you" in Spanish and was off. At the site of another raid, a couple of drunken men came walkingdown the street toward us hand-in-hand. The tall brigade operations officer shooed them away. It was avery successful evening of raids and a great way to end a day and year of successful military operations.

Upon returning to FOB Raider several of us went to the edge overlooking the Tigris River to see NewYear’s Eve fireworks, Iraqi style. The time on target was of course midnight. It was dark and quiet.Then, mortars, artillery and helicopters joined in a loud crescendo of light and sound preempting anyattack the enemy had in mind. It was a soldier’s way to celebrate the year’s end. Tomorrow would begina new day and New Year in Iraq.

Please pray for our American soldiers as they continue to keep our American homes and families safefrom terrorists in the year 2004. Specifically, please pray for the soldiers and families of the 1st BrigadeCombat Team (Raiders), 4th Infantry Division. Thank you.

Raider Brigade Chaplain Update, 25 January 2004

The door of my room echoed with insistent knocking, "Sir," a young sergeant said, "the XO (ExecutiveOfficer) wants to see you in the TOC (Tactical Operations Center) right away." I acknowledged themessage and messenger and got ready. I have learned over the years that no one calls the chaplain at2:00 in the morning or knocks urgently on his door to bring good news. "Maybe there was a meeting Ithought." "Maybe I missed something." I so wanted to believe it was anything other than the dreadfulthoughts creeping in my mind. "Maybe I messed something up, he’ll yell at me. That’ll be fine, I won’tmind getting yelled at, if it doesn’t mean what I fear it means." One step in the TOC, one look at thebriefing slide projected on the screen, and what I wanted not to be true was indeed true. There in redletters under a wordy description of events was "(1) KIA." It had happened again, soldier numberthirteen had been killed in action on a night combat patrol in Bayji.

I had so hoped we were done with this. The shock rippling through soldiers near and far, searing theconscience of those close to the man killed. I so hoped the loss of words, struggles with sadness,memorial preparations, rehearsals and ceremonies were finished. But this is Iraq and hope is relative. Sowe began again. In an unspoken battle drill honed by much too much repetition I drafted a memorialprogram for this situation, coordinated with the key tactical and spiritual leaders and prepared to go tothe affected unit. My role was not hard; I’ve done this before.

I arrived at the soldier’s unit and checked in with the first sergeant. It had been a night combat patrol intown. Evil men had attacked the M2 Bradley the soldier was driving. The first sergeant knew this well.He was in the Bradley when it happened. The battalion chaplain and I talked to the affected soldiers andwent to see the vehicle. Mechanics were buzzing around the stricken tracked vehicle, making it theirpersonal and intense mission to repair it and put it back into action. The chief mechanic pointed outwhere the RPG round had entered, passed through the outer hull, driver, engine compartment and lodgedin the engine case itself.

I squeezed myself into the Bradley. It was a tight enough fit for me, how large, combat loadedinfantrymen squeeze into it I will never know. I made my way to the driver’s hatch and looked around.It was difficult to find the entrance wound, but the exit wound was clear. A shiny metal hole nowstripped of dirt and paint by the searing heat of the enemy’s rocket was easy to see.

I looked around the vehicle and saw spent shell casing scattered about, evidence of a fight. "Of course,"I thought, with the driver mortally wounded the Bradley was now immobile on the dark Iraqi road.Apparently the remaining soldiers had to shoot it out right then and there on the gritty streets of Bayji.I walked around the side of the Bradley. On the ground was a picture one would expect to find in agroup of young men. It was of a young woman. But this picture was different. Her face and frame werenow wrinkled, covered with soot. The edges around her were bent and burned. This charred evidencespoke of an RPG round exploding hopes and dreams. Who was she? I will never know, and the youngsoldier who took her into combat will never know her again either.

Now it was time to prepare. I coached the soldier’s new battalion chaplain on his role in the MemorialCeremony. There have been eight battalion chaplains who have served in our brigade combat team inIraq. When I first arrived, I had these spiritual leaders talk to their command and prepare a draftmemorial program. Every chaplain has used his draft. This battalion chaplain was the last. Everychaplain including myself has participated in a soldier’s Memorial Ceremony, some more than once.

Still, I learned something preparing for and at this particular Memorial Ceremony. I learned that thissoldier was not from the United States. He had a father who paid a neighbor to get his young son out oftheir war-torn Eastern European country where they were trying to survive. As a young immigrant boy,the son knew no English upon arriving in the land of their hopes called America. The young lad learnedEnglish and when he was old enough, joined the Army of the country that gave him freedom and hope.At the ceremony, his company commander related how he had asked this soldier to compare America tohis home country. "There’s no comparison," was the answer. His battalion commander said, "He joinedhis unit a few weeks before we were to deploy to Iraq. He leaves his unit a few weeks before we are toredeploy back home." This soldier knew what freedom was and was willing to fight for it and die for it,even though he was not even a citizen of our great country. On the battlefields in Iraq, he had earned hisright to be called an American.

Please pray for our American soldiers who daily risk their lives to keep their families and friends safe inthis country of freedom and hope we call America. Please pray for the soldiers and families of the 1stBrigade Combat Team (Raiders), 4th Infantry Division. Thank you.

Raider Brigade Chaplain Update, 31 January 2004

We began a normal Saturday, like any other day. It takes effort sometimes to notice the specific days ofthe week. In the TOC (Tactical Operations Center) the normal chatter filled the air. Conversations go onhere and there as a backdrop for one’s duties. You hear the words, but don’t notice the conversation.Don’t notice that is until something catches your ears and yanks at your gut. Such was the case thisSaturday.

The computers hummed, phones rang, people talked. It was "business as usual" or "normal operations"in my world. Then an initial report came in. There was an attack. Evil men had used an IED (ImprovisedExplosive Device) to attack one of our convoys as it traveled northeast of our brigade area of operation.We went on, life went on. Then another report; there had been casualties. Things got a little quieter, butlife went on. Then another report; the casualties were fatalities, deaths, soldiers killed in action. Theawful truth cloudy at first became heart-wrenchingly clear. Not one, not two, but three American liveswere taken by terrorists with a command detonator and explosives. Then things in the TOC became verysilent, listening for requests for confirmation shedding a whiff of hope, then receiving very definitiveconfirmation. There were no questions, no wounds to try to heal, no lives to try and save, just death onthe road in Iraq at the hands of terrorists. The silence then became thunderous as we waited for thenames. Who was it this time?

In a while, the names came trickling in. Two married men with children and a single woman became thefourteenth, fifteenth and sixteenth soldier to lay down their life to protect family, friends and freedomback home. Taps would play yet again for American soldiers defending their families and country. Inthe TOC, normal military operations continued – they had to.

Please pray for the families of those who have died in defense of our nation, and soldiers who bravelycarry out their dangerous missions as part of their normal military operations in the 1st Brigade CombatTeam (Raiders), 4th Infantry Division. Thank you.

Raider Brigade Chaplain Update, 16-18 February 2004

It’s a blustery day, the wind kicks up a howl and rain beats against the sides of vehicles and faces. Thisis winter in Iraq. Different than winters in places that know hail and snow. We know wind and rain. It’scold. The pouring water turns desert sand into mud, which further cakes to vehicle underbodies andboots. The sky is overcast, reminding us that February is in its prime. Soldiers go out on guard; it’s asoldier’s life. Other soldiers at this moment are on patrol, the wind chill and rain hitting their faces andbodies with even more ferocity as they drive and walk up and down Highway One trolling for IEDs(Improvised Explosive Devices) and the terrorist who plant them. Others walk the streets of Tikrit, Bayjiand Ad Dawr, off the sides of the roads looking for evil men and evidence of their work. Tomorrow maybe a nice day, cool and sunny, but not today. Today though, is a good day to be a soldier.

On another day, we were in search of evidence of evil men firing rockets into our area of operation. Thebrigade intelligence section had a site to check out and the brigade reconnaissance troop was given themission to scout it out. We drove out to a site on the east side of the Tigris. Most of our base camps areon the west side; the east side has always held a little more potential for danger. We drove to one site,then another, stopping along the way, dismounting our vehicles, which is to say get out and walkaround, in search of weapons or evidence of weaponry. We walked up and down green hills, small hills,but hills none the less, more noticeable when you’re wearing protective armor plates and a sundry ofother Army equipment.

The search was progressing along without much to glean, when a platoon leader called to say they hadfound some mortar rounds. We drove to the site. Three pack white plastic case that originally held themortars littered the area. About six to eight 60-millimeter mortar rounds were bunched together in apile. I found a fuse on the edge of a large water puddle. We continued to search. I thoughtlessly bouncedthe fuse up and down in my hand. The troop commander said, "That’s probably not a good idea." Irealized that some things are not meant to be played with and slowly gave the fuse to the lieutenant. Theplatoon leader was preparing to destroy the small cache of munitions.

The scout lieutenant gathered the mortar rounds and my fuse into a small hole. He skillfully set fourblocks of C4 (Composition 4) explosives over enemy ammunition. He laid out the wires and gatheredthem together to set the fuse. He set his fuse. Then it was time to evacuate and fast. We quickly droveabout 300 meters away and waited.

Boom! With a loud sound the enemy munitions were no more. The ensuing mushroom cloud of smokerose about four telephone poles high. These mortar rounds would never be fired at us or used as part ofan IED (Improvised Explosive Device) meant to kill Americans. It was a good day hunting. We wenthome.

Please pray for our American soldiers, for as some prepare to come home they continue in their dailyhunt for evil men. Pray they would finish strong in their mission. Specifically please pray for thesoldiers of the 1st Brigade Combat Team (Raiders), 4th Infantry Division. Thank you.

Documents

THE WORLD OF MINISTRY IN TIKRIT, IRAQ Operation Iraqi Freeedom