Excellent article by Sergeant Tim Boggs you won't see in The New York Times:
"Little things mean a lot"
Apr 9, 2006
My name is Tim Boggs and I am a sergeant in the Army. I’m serving on my second deployment to Iraq. When I reflect on my experiences in my first deployment, one particular story sticks out above the rest.
I was stationed in southern Iraq near the port of Umm Qasr. I was in a quartermaster unit and our job was to support camp operations. We purified water, supplied fuel, and did what we could to help improve the quality of life for soldiers there. Our camp was set up in the middle of the desert, inside an old dump, a few minutes away from Umm Qasr. At the front gate of our camp a sign said, “Welcome to Hell” and after living on the base for just a few days I would say the sign was quite accurate. We were pretty much in the middle of the desert with no shade and no amenities. During the summer the temperature was excruciatingly hot, sometimes reaching upward of 140 degrees.
Setting up campAfter I had been there a few weeks, I noticed that several Iraqi families had moved into tents right next to ours. It wasn’t long before some of the people in my unit began to interact with the families. We soon found out why they were living by us. One of the families had helped the military and was living there in fear of reprisals from anti-American forces. Another family, a mother and her three small children, were living there to escape their abusive husband and father. Several of the soldiers including myself became particularly fond of the kids in this family. We started hanging out with the oldest two kids, both boys, who were about six and three years-old.
Tim with the two Iraqi childrenThe youngest was a small girl, probably no older than about a year and a half. They were beautiful children and they melted the hearts of many of the soldiers on base. In the beginning, none of them spoke English so we were unable to communicate, but as anyone who has been in a foreign land can tell you there are ways around language barriers. We often played games with them or let them watch television with us. We would give them snacks and make sure they had enough food and water.
The longer they stayed at our base the more they became a staple in our lives. The oldest kid learned English rapidly, albeit English taught by a bunch of soldiers. The other two, for obvious reasons, were unable to talk to us but caught on quickly as we taught them basic words. Instead, their older brother did all the communicating for them and he amazed us all with his ability to play the role of the father for his siblings. He was a handsome kid with a zest for life despite his circumstances. He could brighten up anyone’s day with his smile and often reminded us why exactly we were halfway across the world, fighting in a foreign land.
Future SoldierThe two younger kids were as equally charming as their older brother. The three-year-old boy loved playing video games with us and would come knocking on my door begging to be allowed to just watch us play. The little girl, as did most cute children, held a soft spot in all of the soldier’s hearts. Without communicating, she reaffirmed my belief that we as American soldiers were not only in Iraq to free an entire nation from an evil tyrant but also to help the Iraqi people lead a better life, which for me meant befriending a family who had fallen victim to abuse. She was a tangible example of how we were making a difference despite our unglamorous jobs.
Future SoldierThe two younger kids were as equally charming as their older brother. The three-year-old boy loved playing video games with us and would come knocking on my door begging to be allowed to just watch us play. The little girl, as did most cute children, held a soft spot in all of the soldier’s hearts. Without communicating, she reaffirmed my belief that we as American soldiers were not only in Iraq to free an entire nation from an evil tyrant but also to help the Iraqi people lead a better life, which for me meant befriending a family who had fallen victim to abuse. She was a tangible example of how we were making a difference despite our unglamorous jobs.
Their mother appreciated that we played with her kids and watched them for her from time to time. She even became quite good friends with some of the women in my unit. The oldest kid would go to the chow hall each day for lunch and dinner and bring back food for his brother, sister, and mother. Everyone at the camp knew them to some capacity but because we stayed only 50 feet away from them, we treated them as family. There were times when I would fall asleep in my cot with the one year-old girl close by. Other times, the oldest kid would come get me at night when their power went out and he wanted me to fix it. We were their family, and they knew it.
I remember the first night the oldest boy came and got me to fix the power in their tent. I couldn’t really understand exactly what he was asking for but after he grabbed me by the arm and led me to his room I saw that all of their power was out. After tracing their power cord to the same generator used by the post office on base I realized that I would have to go wake up the officer in charge of the mailroom. After a half an hour searching for him, I finally located him and he agreed to let me in the mailroom. The officer and I then went to the mailroom and all I had to do was flip the breaker to the power that led to the family’s tent. When I did so, the oldest boy thanked me and we both went back to his area. His mother thanked me as best she could and I returned to my tent. I shook off the funny feeling that I was becoming a dad to these kids. I guess there is something about being summoned to fix things around the house so kids can sleep that made me feel oddly like a father.
“Home”After several months of living in a tent, we were able to move the family into one of the buildings on our small camp. The powers that be at the base found a bed for them and some small amenities, like a television and toiletries. The rest of the stuff they needed was supplied by the friends and family back home of one woman in my unit. We spent a lot of time with the family and began to teach the mother English. She seemed very appreciative. We treated them exactly like we would our own family and cared deeply about them. A few other soldiers at the camp tried hard to get them permission to come to the states but, due to circumstances beyond their control, they weren’t successful. However, by the time we were due to leave Iraq we learned that they had located a relative in a nearby town with whom they could stay, and they were going to move in around the same time we were leaving.
All in all, we spent a good ten months with the family. We were sad to leave them but grateful for the experience of not only helping them out but also having the opportunity to form a relationship that crossed over cultural boundaries, during a time of war. We could see the good changes that we knew we were bringing to these people that greatly needed and appreciated our help. I will be forever thankful for the experience and I hope that one day the kids will grow up to appreciate American soldiers and all that they did for their country. I honestly feel like the kids in Iraq will be our greatest asset in years to come.
All soldiers I know have a heart for the kids in Iraq and for the suffering they have gone through. Many of our greatest efforts have gone toward helping them live a better life, whether it is rebuilding their schools, giving them toys and candy, getting them proper medical attention, or simply playing games with them. My hope for Iraq lies in the next generation. Through the efforts of some amazing soldiers, I believe a seed has been planted that will one day bloom into a mass of young children raised on knowing the kindness and gentleness of American soldiers. When that time comes I believe we will finally enjoy the fruits of our labor in the Middle East.
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