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April 25, 2008 08:46 am
Walking with the King in Saddam’s palace
I see General Petraeus nearly every day during the presentation of the MNF-I (Multi-National Force-Iraq) Battlefield Update Assessment. I sit in the row in front of him, but I doubt he has noticed me, with the possible exception of the time I dashed to the head in the middle of the brief.
BY COL. MIKE GALLAGHER
CNHI News Service
JOHNSTOWN, Pa. — Sometimes when you work in a palace, you bump into the king.
OK, I admit the photograph of me with Gen. David Petraeus was posed. The day after I arrived at Camp Victory (Baghdad), Petraeus was posing for pictures with U.S. and allied service members. I did what any sharp shopper or trooper who encounters a long line would do: I queued up.
I see Petraeus nearly every day during the presentation of the MNF-I (Multi-National Force-Iraq) Battlefield Update Assessment. I sit in the row in front of him, but I doubt he has noticed me, with the possible exception of the time I dashed to the head in the middle of the brief.
I have noticed him and have formed an impression – a positive one. Petraeus offers insightful, concerned comments and questions during the BUAs. The chatter I’ve overheard around the D-fac and scuttlebutt (nautical-speak for a cask holding potable water or a drinking fountain; that is, a place where crew members gather and shoot the breeze) indicates that he is respected by his officers and enlisted personnel. He is the man to get this job done.
“Enough on General Petraeus,” you say. After all, the pundits have been sharing their unbiased opinions on the man for weeks. You want to hear about the palace. Yes, I literally work in a palace – the Al Faw Palace.
The Al Faw is one of 50-plus extravagant palaces built by Saddam Hussein. He dedicated it in honor of the Iraqi soldiers who were victorious over Iran on the Al Faw Peninsula in 1988, but I bet the only foot soldiers who ever entered the Al Faw Palace did so in April 2003. Any excuse to build a palace, I suppose. Saddam even began construction of a palace in honor of his victory over the United States in 1991. (Saddam’s recollection of Desert Storm was different from mine and Stormin’ Norman’s).
Upon entering the rotunda of the Al Faw Palace, you step onto a beautiful marble floor. Your jaw will drop as you gawk at garish marble columns that draw your eyes up to the 256-light faux-crystal chandelier. Colorful frescos cover the ceilings. The 29 powder rooms are furnished with lavish gilded ceramic fixtures. The building is truly a symbol of the disposed dictator’s gluttony.
Americans have covered the opulence with a veil of GI drab. The large sitting rooms have been divided by drywall and cubicle partitions. Hanging ceilings and fluorescent lights were installed. So my office, which is shared with two Army officers (a Yank and a Brit), is remarkably similar to my old cubicle in Johnstown’s Penn Traffic building.
And I may work in a palace, but I live in a “can” surrounded by tall concrete blast barriers. Everyone refers to the aluminum trailers we are billeted in as “cans.”
Working in a palace is not all pomp and pageantry. We experience an occasional indirect fire round (usually a 107 mm rocket), a daily layer of dust and long, repetitive daily routines. I realize that my life is luxurious compared to that of our front-line troops – those living in the FOBs (Forward Operating Bases) and beyond.
An ache common to HQ and FOB troops is that caused by the separation from our loved ones. I miss my “queen and three princesses,” and not merely on the grand occasions such as high school graduations, birthdays and anniversaries. I really miss the day-to-day experiences and events. I miss the simple pleasure of being able to hug my wife when I am down, to tease a daughter about a chaotic event at school, or just to sit down together to enjoy a movie.
I’m not whining; I just want you to take away three points: 1) Appreciate the time you have with your loved ones; 2) Appreciate the sacrifices your young Americans are making for their country; and 3) Know that separation is toughest on the spouses, who live in daily uncertainty regarding the status of their loved ones.
I handle the separation by focusing on mission, duty and bearing in mind: 1) I am a U.S. Marine. I was sent here for a reason. I am contributing, and2) Something that I say or do could save a comrade’s life.
Working 12 hours a day, seven days a week helps too (lol); there isn’t much time for moping and moaning.
Operation Iraqi Freedom warriors also are spoiled by modern technology, which allows us to communicate with our families regularly via e-mail or telephone. This is a significant improvement over the old days (i.e., Desert Storm), when I went days, sometimes weeks, without a precious letter, only to receive a bundle of them when mail call was finally sounded.
While separation from my loved ones is not pleasant, it is countered in my heart by an enduring hope and joy that emanates from my faith in God.
The Rev. Billy Graham summed it up well: “The happiness which brings enduring worth to life is not the superficial happiness that is dependent on circumstances. It is the happiness and contentment that fills the soul even in the midst of the most distressing circumstances and the most bitter environment.”
I walk with the King of kings.
Col. Mike Gallagher writes for the Johnstown (Pa.) Tribune-Democrat.
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Comments or questions may be sent to Col. Mike Gallagher at gallaghertemp@live.com. He resided in Johnstown and Windber from 1993 until 2005 while employed by the National Drug Intelligence Center.
“The viewpoints of this article are those of the author alone, and do not represent any official policy, view or endorsement by the U.S. Military.”
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