For Nordoc!

Thursday, April 20th, 2006 Deployment Day 26

Baghdad, Iraq

They stole it from us! *Gollum* *Gollum*

(Note: By 'they', I mean brigade higher-up jerks. And by 'it', I mean Pete.)

Yes, Pete is gone now, back to Kuwait. With me up and running as a fully functional (and not to mention armed to the hilt) battalion surgeon, Pete's work was done here, so to speak, and thus he was yanked back to safe but desolate Camp Buehring by brigade command. And though I did spend several days squattting hunched in an underground, water-filled cavern admiring Pete, stroking him with my finger, and calling him "my precious" over and over again prior to his departure, the Gollum/Smeagol analogy doesn't end there. You see, without Pete, I'm a torn soul and a tragically unstable dual personality, and I scheme endlessly to steal him back while hopping about dressed in a loin cloth, rasping in saliva-laden gibberish, and plotting to murder those damn tricksy hobbits. (This behavior has not pleased my command, by the way). OK, I'm exagerrating. But the point is, Pete left, and it sort of bummed me out. Until now, I've had the "Pete factor" here in full effect to cushion some of the harsh realities of military deployment and spending 24/7 with "the line". People who know Pete will know what the Pete Factor (Tm - just patented that, btw) brings to the table. Without him, its just that much tougher to deal with stuff. There is no longer a good friend around to joke with or shake my head with and say, "Dude..." while trying to grasp an unreal situation. I still have Jeff, my PA, who is by all accounts a great guy (and more in a later post on him), but he's just not a close friend like Pete.

This blog has been dead anyway, for about the past week or so. Mostly because I knew Pete was leaving and thus we were just spending our remaining time hanging out, watching moviess, smoking an occasional stogie, etc. The last 10 days have been mercifully quiet in terms of FOB casualties and such. There has thanfully been no further need for any more memorial services of late. That doesn't mean that the week didn't pass without its share of intense stories from those out on patrol. I've already stock-piled tons of these from my medics - from firefights, to local interactions, and a lot of other stuff. War is chaos. And Baghdad is a mess right now. But I suppose you know that if you simply turn on CNN. Today, however, I'm focusing on our diversions.

Pete and I and some other providers watched "The Passion of the Christ" last week. Not a horrible movie if you ever wanted to see an actor playing Jesus get the living crap beat out of him for about an hour. I think South Park nailed it right on the head with their parody episode in which they proclaim that Mel Gibson, in all his uber-Catholic bravado, has an unadulterated torture fetish. Either way, and despite the onslaught of the classic stereotypical Catholic guilt, the film didn't exactly make me want to run back and embrace my Catholic roots. And speaking of South Park, we've been watching quite a bit of that lately. I got to rewatch some of my favorites, including the "Vote Bitch" episode, the "You got Served" episode, and the aforementioned "Passion of the Jew" episode. Ah, funny stuff.

Pete and I sat down and watched "The Cable Guy" as well. I hadn't seen that in a while, and Pete had never seen it. It was definitely strange watching that film out here in that the film brings back such powerful nostalgia of my San Diego boys. And certainly a bitter sweet viewing out in a place like this. That said, I still can't believe how damn funny that movie is and how enthralled I remain with it. Top five comedies ever - I don't care what anybody says.

I played much better at poker this past week, going out seventh or so (out of twelve). Not too bad considering I lost with some good hands which I call bad luck, dammit. My most surreal experience of the week was during poker. U2's "Where the Streets Have No Name" is playing on the iPOD speakers. Its a full moon, and warm outside. I have a legitimate (almost green-faced) buzz from the cigar in my mouth. Helicopters are flying over head intermittently. Sitting in a plastic chair, drinking near-beer and eating Pringles. There are all sorts of crazy looking "Middle East bugs" flying around the lights we have on outside. At one point in the song we heard some gunshots in the distance and one of the docs, without missing a beat, says, "Ah, just small arms fire - probably just a warning shot. Some Iraqi probably just got too close to a Humvee." He pauses briefly, then looks around the table, and adds, "Who's deal?" And then Bono belts out the chorus.

That just sort of stuck with me. And it seemed like a fitting song title, to boot.

Oh yeah, and finally to the title of this post. Jeff, my PA and roommate, is a big fan of RPG's (aka Role Playing Games) on his X-box. His current passion is a gladiator-based thang named (fittingly) Gladius. Anyway, I'm not a huge RPG guy - the games move way too slow in my opinion - but anyone who's seen a game like this knows the formula. Opposing sides line up to fight (and then just sort of stand there posing and ogling each other while the strategy is inputed). When the commands are finally given, and the action starts, most characters let out a war cry, yell something, or otherwise make some sort of signature sound while they perform their move, launch their attack, or whatever. The same is true when someone gets hit. Well anyway, most of the characters in this game have the usual ho-hum manner about them, and they do their thing with flair but not too much flair. But then there's this one guy. His name is Urlan the Barbarian and he's different. He's, uh, how should I say, into it. Its as if the voice actor hired to play this cat came into the studio that day with his mind made up to 'really go for it'. Anyway, Urlan, the large blonde-maned barbarian, has such a zeal for his attack that his war call stands out above all else. Its so loud, obtrusive and hilarious, that it constantly made Pete and I, who would be busy with our own activities in the room, and would never really be paying attention to the game, just stop and just bust up every time Urlan sounded off. The call itself, of course, is, "FOR NOR-DOC!"

Anyway, once this became a frequent thing, Pete and I decided that this kind of passion and energy couldn't just be contained to a mere video game. So we took up the battle cry. We started dedicating all sorts of our own activities around the FOB to Nordoc. We'd go to the DFAC (For Nordoc!), we'd do sick call (For Nordoc!). Hell, we'd raise the poker pot for Nordoc, brush our teeth for Nordoc, go to the gym for Nordoc, anything. Just about everything we could do out here - we started doing it for Nordoc. (Mostly just because we wanted an excuse to repeat the loud, beefy-man call of "For Nordoc!", but whatever) It was the thing to do.

And so now, Pete's gone, back to Kuwait. Hopefully I'll see him soon because it will mean our whole unit is going back down to Kuwait. But until then? Well, at first I wasn't sure what to do. I was down. I needed my Pete. My precious. But then it came to me. I'm gonna push on. I'm keeping my chin up. I'm gonna take this thing to the limit. That's right - I'm gonna give this deployment hell. Its what Pete would have done. Why you ask? Simple. For Nordoc, by God. For Nordoc!

(PS - There should be more frequent posts in the coming weeks. Here's some pics of Pete and I - acting like asses, mostly.)




Pete models his personalized Taint Kevlar



Pete naps it up at our state-of-the-art Aid Station



Mick plays "Agent Smith" in his room



No insurgents would dare mess with this duo