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For embedded reporter, Iraq became a story of firsts
Ventura County Star ^ | May 4,2003 | Dani Dodge

Posted on 05/04/2003 4:13:49 AM PDT by AFPhys

First, let me explain: I don't camp, and when I did, flush toilets were always within an easy midnight walk. I subscribe to Bon Appetit and Cook's Illustrated and would never open a can of Chef Boyardee. I don't go outside without a shower and makeup. I have no military experience.

Yet, I spent the last two months in the Middle East with the Seabees of Port Hueneme-based Naval Mobile Construction Battalion 4; most of the time in Iraq during Operation Iraqi Freedom.

We were in Baghdad before the city fell. Bullets flew over our heads. A land mine blew up a minibus next to our camp.

I ate prepackaged meals sealed in plastic called MREs for six weeks. I lived in the dirt and went two weeks at a time without showering. Often, I didn't have so much as a bucket to pee in.

Since February, I've been telling the stories of the battalion's Seabees, remarkable men and women whose resiliency, commitment and kindness will stay with me always.

This is my story.

Quick preparations

I got the assignment to go to war on a fluke. I'd been at the Ventura County Star for only four months when the reporter originally slated to be embedded with the battalion bowed out. There wasn't enough time for The Star to send me to the Department of Defense journalist training, so I had to wing it.

The battalion's chaplain, Lt. Brandon Harding, showed me how to put on a gas mask and a chemical protection suit, and walked me through the "gas chamber" to make sure my equipment worked. He explained that, if war began, there was a chance the Seabees would get near the front lines, but most likely they would stay in camp, taking small day trips to repair bridges and roads. He didn't think I needed to bring a tent.

I told my best friend I would most likely be in Kuwait during the war: "I just hope I get into Iraq afterward to cover some of the humanitarian efforts."

Colleagues asked over and over: "Are you scared?" I said, "No." Although the possibility of chemical weapons haunted me, my biggest fear was boring stories.

I got desert boots, two desert camouflage uniforms, a sleeping bag, a couple of sea bags, a computer, a satellite phone and three months worth of Clinique skin care products. I was ready to go.

The journey begins

We were scheduled to board a bus early in the morning on Saturday, March 1. The bus would take us to March Air Force Base near Riverside, where we would catch a chartered military flight to Kuwait. So I canceled my trip to Washington state to see my son's first solo horn recital that weekend.

I hadn't yet heard the Navy mantra, "Hurry up and wait."

It was three days before we actually boarded the plane. When we did, many Seabees assumed I was a poorly trained reservist. I not only wore makeup, but my tool-belt-looking thing was crooked, and my shoulder-length hair was untethered. Getting onto the bus, Seabees grabbed Meals, Ready-to-Eat for dinner, but I had no idea how to even open the thick brown plastic pouch. When we boarded the plane, I left it behind unopened.

Once aboard, the pilot asked: "Please put your weapons on the floor facing the outside of the plane." Many Seabees were already snoring when he made the announcement. After years in the military, they had perfected the art of falling asleep whenever given the chance. I, on the other hand, had never slept sitting up and spent the 33-hour plane ride completely awake.

At the first stop, Chief Deborah Faye Young worked to get me into regulation. With the loving kindness of a mother, she explained my hair should be back and above my collar. She showed me how to tuck my pants into my boots so sand fleas wouldn't bite my ankles. She bent down to hide my shoelaces in my boots so there were no untidy loose ends.

When we arrived in Kuwait, instead of being allowed to continue on with the Seabees, I was pulled out of formation and taken to the Department of Defense media center at the Kuwaiti Hilton to apply for formal clearances along with the other 500-some embeds. I was at least heartened that the public affairs officer had a hard time finding me among the enlisted.

At the Hilton, Marines gave the journalists chemical weapons protection training. They also gave us the syringes we would slam into someone's thigh if they were affected by chemical weapons and on the ground doing the "funky chicken." Several journalists decided to go home.

Learning experiences

A few days later, I was among 150 embeds, only about a half-dozen of whom were women, waiting for the buses that would take us to our units. TV reporters did standups. "Like never before, the media is going to war," said one, pointing a handheld camera at himself. Cameramen took pictures of rolling bus wheels each time the buses moved to a different parking lot. Journalists interviewed each other. It was swelteringly hot. Kuwaiti hot. I had been in the sun several hours, so I ran back into the hotel for a bottle of water.

But the store wouldn't take a $20 bill. I was flushed, faint and frustrated. A man in line behind me offered to buy the $6 bottle of water.

"You'd do the same for me," he said, telling me he was Michael Kelly of the Atlantic Monthly. After I thanked him, we talked about our embeds, wished each other good luck, good stories and safe journeys.

At the camp, I was put in the female officers' tent with a half-dozen other women. We slept on bunk beds, but the Seabees called them "racks." It was just one word out of a whole new vocabulary I learned in the first few days. The Port-a-Potties were "heads." The kitchen was a "galley." The tents, "berths."

But other than sandstorms and a false alarm over a possible gas attack, my first few weeks were lessons in the military rhythm and rhyme and reason. I've always lived life by my own timetable, but suddenly people were telling me where to go, and when to do it and to take off my "cover" (hat) when I was in the galley.

My stories were the stories of Seabees. They were simple, quiet stories that I privately called "Fluff from the Front." Getting them to my editors was my biggest frustration. I would sit in my tent and type out my story on my laptop computer. Then, I would set up my satellite phone, get a connection and try to send it by e-mail to my editors. My first few stories wouldn't send at all, ending up at The Star via military e-mail.

The computer and phone weren't connecting, said Petty Officer 1st Class Tom Wooten, the battalion's resident computer whiz. He sat in the sand with it until the connections began to occur. Still, the satellite was overloaded and I couldn't get through. I developed a habit of getting up at 2 a.m. and sending my stories then.

I made other adjustments. I stopped wearing my contact lenses: The grit of the desert seemed to get under the thin plastic. I gave up makeup. I bathed in moisturizer, but still watched the tips of my fingers crack and bleed.

One day, the chaplain asked to speak to me.

"It looks like we will be moving up just behind the front lines," he said. "You can go if you want, but you don't have to."

I asked where he would be. He said with this forward group that was part of Task Force Mike. He needed to be there to comfort anyone who was hurt or dying. I said I would go also.

The war begins

At 2:30 a.m. a few days later, a male voice shouted at the tent door. "Senior Chief Lavoie, Senior Chief Lavoie." Michelle "Shelly" Lavoie was the only woman chief in Task Force Mike. Knowing this might mean we were convoying out, I headed for the showers. By 4 a.m., I was fresh and clean and packed, although I was exhausted from a hacking cough that had afflicted about half the women in the tent.

But we didn't leave. Like the trip to Kuwait, there were several false starts.

Then on March 19 we were given an hour to get all our things on the trucks.

"Hurry up and wait," Seabees laughed or fumed. I realized, as frustrating as it was, I was no longer in control of the simplest aspect of my life: my time.

The convoy arrived at a blank spot in the desert near the border as the sky was taking on the rosy glow of morning. We passed scattered Marines rousing from the sleeping holes they'd dug in the sand. There were explosions somewhere in the distance.

"Training," most people concluded, setting up their tiny two-man tents and sleeping through the heat of the day. There were five embedded journalists on the convoy. One, Nick Oza, a Knight Ridder photographer, had a short-wave radio. He was the one who told Lavoie the war had started.

By dusk, most Seabees still did not know President Bush had announced the start of the war. That night, I was eating an MRE at the front of my tent when I saw two bright lights streak across the sky toward our camp.

I pointed and asked, "Should we be worried?"

Screams erupted all around me: "INCOMING! INCOMING!"

I ran for the bunker behind the combat operations center, but I have no night vision. I couldn't see it. I ran for another bunker, but got lost in the blackness and the shouting.

"INCOMING! INCOMING!"

Chaplain Harding called out: "Dani, this way."

I followed his voice to a big hole in the ground, tumbling 4 feet into the soft dirt, wondering how I would get out again. There were four or five others in the bunker. After we scrambled to get our chemical protection gear on we watched in amazement as the missiles sailed over our heads. More followed. It was like Fourth of July without the picnic or the celebration.

It was a cool evening, so the first few hours in the chemical protection gear were comfortable. Over the next few weeks, though, I came to hate the charcoal-lined jungle camouflage pants and jacket. Worn with the gas mask, boots and gloves, it is supposed to protect the military men and woman from chemicals like mustard gas that could harm their skin.

But no chemicals in meant no air out. Everyone wore it all day, then slept in it all night, for about a month. We sweated profusely. I developed heat rashes that itched like a thousand ants chewing on my back. Usually I wore a flak jacket and Kevlar helmet as well. It was 20 extra pounds of protection to drag around. After a few hours in it all, my back ached so badly it was hard to sleep. Many Seabees complained about the same problem, yet others wore it like gym clothes and still sprinted around our makeshift camp.

That night, I wore my boots to bed. I began using my flak jacket for my pillow and my helmet to hold my glasses. I went to sleep with my hand on my gas mask.

Tomorrow, Part 2: Covering the Seabees in Iraq


TOPICS: Extended News; Foreign Affairs; News/Current Events
KEYWORDS: afterbash; collateralbenefits; danidodge; embeddedreport; iraqifreedom
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This is an exciting read for me. The real life experience that these reporters got of our incredible military is being brought home now. This is going to serve not only as a recruiting tool, but it is going to propagate ever more respect for the forces which protect our country.

There are so many in this country who have no idea what people in the military go through, and this type of article will really serve to educate them. I also hope that they are able to convey the heroic nature of the military spouse.

1 posted on 05/04/2003 4:13:49 AM PDT by AFPhys
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To: AFPhys
I just got done reading this on the Situation Room thread, and am so glad you posted it as a free-standing article!

Speaking as a woman, I had to laugh at her taking a 2-months supply of Clinique with her! LOL!

On a more serious note, it is obvious from this opening article of the series that she has undergone a transformation.

2 posted on 05/04/2003 4:19:32 AM PDT by Miss Marple
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To: Miss Marple
Absolutely transforming for this woman.

This kind of article is so exciting for me to see. I am so looking forward to the books these folks are going to write. In fact, I hope this gal is planning to do so.
3 posted on 05/04/2003 4:22:04 AM PDT by AFPhys (((PRAYING for: President Bush & advisors, troops & families, Americans)))
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To: AFPhys
I liked,too. The elite media wonks are complaining that we haven't been informed properly because of our going against world opinion.They hate the amazing stories we are getting from reporters who were there.
4 posted on 05/04/2003 4:28:37 AM PDT by MEG33
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To: AFPhys
Overcoming discomfort and danger with people who have honor and kindness as well as courage simply HAD to be transforming.

I also was the type of person who didn't do camping or outdoors. In order to finish my degree in geology I found it necessary to complete a summer in field camp in Montana, doing geologic mapping from the field. While not having the rigorous demands this woman went through, nor the danger, the overcoming of outdoor challenges and discomfort gave me a confidence I lacked in my personal life. So in a small, small way, I know what effect this had on her.

I would pay cash money to hear what she says to her son the first time he whines about having to do some work around the house. LOL!

5 posted on 05/04/2003 4:30:34 AM PDT by Miss Marple
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To: AFPhys
This was a wonderful article--thank-you. I noticed a Part 2 to be published tomorrow, please post it if you have the opportunity.

The Tarheel

6 posted on 05/04/2003 4:33:17 AM PDT by Tarheel
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To: Miss Marple
The military experience is transforming for everyone. You are right, too about the effect of being with them in the field. Remember that reporter who said, "Where do they get young men like this?" when they offered the time they were given to communicate to folks back home, to their buddies who really needed that time?

These reporters can not help but be transformed by the experiences they had with our fine troops out in the field. I can imagine that many of them used to be typical liberal peaceniks, too, which makes this even more delicious.

I almost always recommend that a young person strongly consider going into the military for all these reasons, as well as the confidence building reason you mention.
7 posted on 05/04/2003 4:42:02 AM PDT by AFPhys (((PRAYING for: President Bush & advisors, troops & families, Americans)))
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To: AFPhys
Great read! Can you ping me if you post the follow-up?
8 posted on 05/04/2003 4:47:47 AM PDT by looney tune
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To: AFPhys
One of the most important transformations that takes place is the acquisition of the knowledge that "mission" can be more important than "self". It reinforces the virtue of altruism which often gets lost on young people during their adolescent and early adult lives.

I am a physician who served on active duty in the USN from 1979-1987. I was involved in medical support of the operation in Grenada and in several missions in support of the USCG after disasters. Education in medical school is necessarily directed at self and the doctor-patient relationship. Involvement in a military mission challenges that emphasis and places the elements of the mission ahead of individual interests.

I can always tell when I'm working with someone in a medical setting that has military experience.

9 posted on 05/04/2003 4:50:31 AM PDT by johniegrad
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To: AFPhys
Thank you AFPhys.. this deserved its own thread!

Remarkable story & I related well to the non-camping mentality(heads, cosmetics, contacts) that had to quickly change gears. I am sure next to the birth of her children, this will be the highlight of her life in years ahead.

Yikes. Late . Off to church
10 posted on 05/04/2003 4:58:21 AM PDT by DollyCali (Authenticity: To have Arrived !)
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To: DollyCali; johniegrad
Very good observation about the "mission" transformation.

I just had a discussion with a friend of mine who made a comment about "liked what Bush said, but don't like the way he talks" ... and that led to his saying "it must be hard for him to be commander-in-chief when he hears the criticism about only being in the Guard in Texas". I attempted to patiently explain that he was completely wrong about that: that every military man strongly respects every other, regardless of the duty they perform. That "mission importance" aspect is exactly the reason why that's true. I don't blame Gore for being in the back lines in 'Nam, or anybody who is part of the military but tries to stay away from the dangerous jobs... they are all doing jobs that need to be done to accomplish the mission, and somebody is going to be in those slots. I see no dishonor in people trying to keep their own skins whole as long as they do their part and do their duty.

I'm sure that there are a boat load of people who are going to be able to relate to the stories of these "non-camping" mentality reporters. This is going to be a super education, I believe.

Off to church for me, too...
11 posted on 05/04/2003 5:13:54 AM PDT by AFPhys (((PRAYING for: President Bush & advisors, troops & families, Americans)))
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To: AFPhys
please ping for part 2
12 posted on 05/04/2003 5:32:42 AM PDT by Drango (There are 10 kinds of people in this world. Those that understand binaries, and those that don't.)
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To: AFPhys
But the store wouldn't take a $20 bill. I was flushed, faint and frustrated. A man in line behind me offered to buy the $6 bottle of water. "You'd do the same for me," he said, telling me he was Michael Kelly of the Atlantic Monthly.

We lost a good one when we lost Michael Kelly.

13 posted on 05/04/2003 6:31:23 AM PDT by Harmless Teddy Bear (Somebody should have labeled the future "Some assembly required.")
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To: AFPhys
great post!!! Thank you.
14 posted on 05/04/2003 6:42:57 AM PDT by GatĂșn(CraigIsaMangoTreeLawyer)
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To: AFPhys; harpseal; Travis McGee; Squantos; sneakypete; Chapita
They also gave us the syringes we would slam into someone's thigh if they were affected by chemical weapons and on the ground doing the "funky chicken." Several journalists decided to go home.

Nothing to add.

15 posted on 05/04/2003 9:20:39 AM PDT by razorback-bert
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To: AFPhys
Thanks for posting this great article. The reference to Michael Kelly was of particular interest. He was not only a fine writer, but a fine man; he will be missed.
16 posted on 05/04/2003 10:51:13 AM PDT by Fracas
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To: AFPhys
what a fascinating article! Great read. Please ping me if you post the next one.
17 posted on 05/04/2003 11:03:46 AM PDT by Frapster (Finish a Marathon - Change Your Life)
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bump- good article
18 posted on 05/04/2003 11:10:47 AM PDT by Prodigal Son
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To: Big Giant Head
Here it is! You're welcome :-)
19 posted on 05/04/2003 12:47:06 PM PDT by Marie Antoinette (conservative chicks for REAL men!! whoohoo!)
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To: AFPhys
Bump! - Great piece! Now don't forget Part 2!


No good deed goes unpunished ... ;-)
20 posted on 05/04/2003 1:00:37 PM PDT by Tunehead54 (Support Our Troops!)
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