Note from the desk of the opinion editors:
It is easy for us to forget the sacrifices American soldiers serving abroad make to represent our country. In a charged partisan climate in which the actions of civilian commanders are scrutinized and used as fodder in mudslinging campaigns, we can overlook the thousands of ordinary Americans making us proud in extraordinary conditions.
This is the fourth part of a series that will appear every Monday this semester where we will publish the journal of Liz O'Herrin, a UW student who kept record of her experiences in Iraq and has decided to share them with the readers of The Badger Herald. We present this journal in hopes that you can gain insight to a small piece of the Iraq experience for American servicemen and women.
MAY 20
Today is my first day off in 15 days. I slept until 10 a.m., a solid five hours extra. Desperately needed sleep. Went to Saddam's pool. I have never seen so many tan, muscular, tattooed guys with the same haircut in my life. Ate at "Subway" at Saddam's movie theater. It shouldn't be legal to call that stuff chicken. I came back to our pod to read in the room — four short Nabokov stories. It felt exceptionally refreshing to my mind. I became tired quickly, and decided to set my alarm for a short nap. I lay down to rest. "Incoming, incoming, incoming," shrieks the klaxon. I dive to the ground in a sports bra and shorts. I hear a distant thud. Boom? Who knows. Laid on the ground for a few more minutes. I wondered where my roommate was and what she was doing.
I got up, decided to put on a T-shirt first, and strapped on my gear. I took pictures with my Kevlar and Nabokov. If nothing else, a few people at home in Madison may get a kick out of it. It's odd. I sit and wait for the all clear siren to sound, while debating whether to eat some Twizzlers to pass the time.
MAY 22
In the past few days, the base has been hit by a lot of mortar shells. One day the area I was working in got hit, but luckily I had volunteered to go get the mail. A 20 minute excursion turned into several hours of delays, parked on the perimeter road because we couldn't get back to our area. We sat in the truck. We smoked, we laughed, we sat in silence as we watched helicopters in the distance dive and swerve and we wondered if everyone we had been working with was OK. The Blawkhawks dove like predators after prey in the distance. Then a giant plume of black smoke spewed up from the ground, out in the distance. Did we hit someone with a Hellfire missle? Or was it an IED, hitting a humvee? Ours or theirs? There's no way of telling. We sit in silence and watch the horizon, somber.
The chief has put me to work on classified paperwork all day. At first I felt cool doing it, then I thought my eyeballs were going to roll out of my head from looking at Excel spreadsheets all day. It's hotter than hell outside so I don't mind the headache from the computer screen all day.
JUNE 1
Not much to report. I laughed the hardest I have in a long time today. I work out about four times a week, usually the elliptical machine for 30 minutes at the army gym. The Third Country Nationals [TCNs] run the music that blasts across the tent. Today it was Kelly Clarkson. Two of the biggest black dudes I have ever seen in my life were benching straight across from me, one spotting while the other lifted. As they took turns spotting, they busted out random dance moves to "Since U Been Gone." Dudes had some serious moves, in between grunting and benching 400 lbs.
My bed shook really hard last night. Door slam? Mortar? Door? Mortar? I tell myself it was a door slamming but my eyes remain wide open, seeing nothing in the dark.
