Thursday, November 24


A quick post before I start stuffing the turkey.

The Sage and I just got off the phone with our daughter's boyfriend, who is stationed in Iraq. Someone was passing a satellite phone around, so he took the opportunity to call, and we were thrilled to hear from his voice. "We just ate Thanksgiving dinner, and it sucked," he said. He's currently at Camp Cook, which is in Taji, north of Baghdad.

"Oh, C----," I said, "I'm so glad to hear your voice and to know that you're safe."

"Safe? I'm not safe," he replied. They spend every other day in Tarmiya, which he called "the next Fallujah." He's living in a water treatment plant and said that every day they "ride around (they do police action) and try not to get blown up." They're constantly being sniped at by insurgents. "I'm definitely not safe."

"We've got to get out of here," were his closing words to me before I passed the phone to The Sage. "Get us out of here."

So much for "our troops want us to finish the 'mission'."


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