Dear friends and family of Delta Company "Dragoons,"

I am writing our first e-mail status report later than I had hoped because of an extremely busy schedule as of late. Let me begin by saying how proud I am of our Marines and their hard work up to this point. Including work-ups, pre-deployment ranges and classes and loads of field ops and vehicle maintenance, this has been a grueling period for everyone, one I am sure they will never forget. However, I am convinced their hard work and strong efforts will help us complete the missions we've been assigned and guard our troops against a difficult enemy.

First let me tell you at the writing of this e-mail, we have kept everyone safe, there are no injuries or illnesses. The Marines are smelly and tired after being in the field twenty days, but morale is good. My e-mails are checked, so I will not speak of any combat related issues unless allowed to in this or future e-mailings. I will let the Marines tell you about those items when we get home.

After our departure from 29 Palms MCAGCC we drove to March AFB. The USO had a great set-up for us with breakfast including coffee, juice and snacks. The volunteers were mostly veterans of previous wars who wanted to wish the troops a goodbye. Older men and women, they greeted our Marines with smiles and stories of "shipping out" for Americas previous wars. We were all flattered by their honest patriotism and dedication to the troops. After a few hours wait, we took off with World Air, a charter company that primarily flys for the military. They had flight attendants and played movie after movie to keep the Marines entertained. They seemed to be happy to make us comfortable, and 1stSgt Ward reminded me a round trip flight to Europe would usually cost us over $1,500, but this one was free. We landed in Bangor Maine first, and after a brief turn-around flew across the Atlantic to Shannon, Ireland. Many of the new Marines remarked that this was their first trip across any ocean, and were motivated by the trip. The Marines mostly slept on the flight. We were not allowed out of the airport in Ireland, but the Marines all seemed to enjoy the countryside through the windows. The Shannon airport is surrounded by lush green countryside, there was a sense that it had rained recently. Adjacent to the airport was also a golf course, and though it was the middle of the day, there were a few stalwart older gentlemen out on the links. We were not allowed to drink, but on our return trip I will waive that rule. The Irish folks waiting in the airport seemed confused by all the men in uniform, but some seemed happy to talk to the Marines and wish them luck. Most of the Marines took the opportunity to charge their video games in the airport outlets and get a meal paid for by the airlines in lieu of airplane food. No Irish food, but sandwiches, chips and sodas.

Our landing in Kuwait wasn't nearly as warm a welcome. It was the middle of the night, and you can imagine the stacks of cargo, lines of vehicles and crates, and tight security. Having been on two deployments to Kuwait, I can assure you we weren't missing much, the area around the airport is not very interesting. After a few hours, we met up with our seabags and were bussed to Camp Victory. A small camp used for transients awaiting transport in and out of Iraq. I met up with one of my former Marines, now a Master Gunnery Sergeant, and one of my former bosses, now a Lieutenant Colonel and they explained some of the recent goings on and current operations in Iraq. This is a busy place, to say the least.

Once our flights had been arranged we took a C-130 to Al Assad. Also a night flight, it lasted just over an hour. The Al Assad base was huge and sprawling, but had not received a mortar attack for more than six months. They had a PX and small fast food restaurants including a Pizzia Hut and Burger King. It's going to be hard to keep our Marines fit if they keep feeding us this way. Living conditions were tight, to say the least. Billeting is always a problem when moving around, especially with many other units coming and going also. We officially detached 3rd Platoon back to our Battalion for further tasking in Korean Village (KV as it's called). Lt. Niznik and SSgt Arbuthnot have them well at hand attached to Alpha Company for missions in Rutbah in the Western province. We were taught a few classes by the Regimental Gunner on current Rules of Engagement and the importance of picking our fights wisely. We do not wish to hurt innocent civilians over here.

The Company boarded CH-53 Marine helicopters for our next link. Our destination was Al Quaim, a place very familiar to those in the Company who had been here before. For the newcomers, this was their first Helo ride, and it was eventful. The flight was amazing, and we passed through terrain that looked as ancient as its history. Our helo's flew low and fast over the landscape, and we passed over rolling deserts with sand dunes and rocky outcroppings. Much of the infrastructure, at least from the air, seemed intact, with damage to powerlines and some buildings. As we passed over the Euphrates river, a mass of green seemed to cling to its banks, and shrouded in the trees and high reeds we could see ancient palaces and small towns. Minarets, Mosques and arabesque portals and doorways were clearly visible outside the gunners bubble on the CH-53. It was easy to envision the hanging gardens of Babylon and the cities that used to make up the silk trade routes between Europe and Asia. Haditha Lake was the most unusual thing to see in a veritable sea of sand. An enormous body of water, there were islands of rock and green reeds. Storks or cranes flew low over the surface in the direction of our helos giving it a Discovery Channel, nature show appeal. The pilots and aircrew were uncommunicative, having ferried countless troops North, and my usual attempt to sit in the jump seat and listen to the pilots communicate with ground stations and other aircraft was sternly rebuked by the crew chief. The wing was all about business here, and wasn't interested in entertaining us grunts.

Our landing in Al Quaim was dramatic and like something from an old war movie. I've landed in many bases around the world, but this one was unique. The base at Al Quaim is inside an old Rail yard. With signs still hanging over the massive railcar bays proclaiming "Royal Iraqi Railways." There were lines and lines of rail car and engines. Some seemed to still have cargo onboard, all appeared to be suspended, waiting for an engineer. Many had been stripped or blown up, but there are plans in place to get the railways back up and running within the next three months. An amazing feat in this war torn country. The first of many surprises in what used to be the hostile North West portion of Iraq. The base had HESCO barricades, a kind of foldable metal mesh that can be filled with sand and rock to make an eight foot tall walls to keep out terrorists. It was ringed with guard towers and cammie netting, and razor wire, helos landed and touched off regularly. We saw sweaty, dirty Marines with their gear and sea bags lining up, waiting for us to unload so they could get onboard and head back to the States. They practically pushed us out of the way, I am sure we will feel the same way in another six months. We had an opportunity to see some detainees. Wiry, black hair, tanned arms and faces, these were our enemy, at least the ones we'd gotten. They didn't look very threatening, and most of our Marines towered over them in size, stature and military bearing. Nothing is more convincing to me that we can win the war with just a handful more Devil Dogs. These people are ineffective against our rugged Marines unless they hide, cowardly, behind their IEDs, mortars and snipers.

Many experienced their first dust storm. Much similar to the ones others had seen or I had experienced in Saudi Arabia and Kuwait, they were enough to blast the enamel off our teeth. The temperature wasn't too hot yet, and along the Euphrates it's cold at night dropping to mid forties. The days are in the eighties, and increasing in temperature as we get closer to summer. We officially detached from 3d LAR and attached to Regimental Combat Team-7. Commanded by Lt. Col. Marano, we were welcomed and billeted in SWA huts (South West Asia). This was the last spot for Marines to use phones and send e-mail. We had ordered enough sets of E-SAPI plates and side SAPI plates for everyone. This is the newest generation IV and V armor your Marines will wear. The latest in Marine gear, it defeats some of the biggest enemy weapons when properly worn. The side SAPI plates protect our Marines from their vulnerable flanks. We also convinced the supply Sergeant to issue all Marines a pair of fire retardant gloves, called NOMEX and a hood made of the same material. This can really save the Marines trouble in the event of a fire on the vehicle. All this gear is, of course, heavy, cumbersome, and will be extremely hot, so I am ensuring our Docs keep a close eye on our Marines to ensure they are drinking enough water when the weather turns. This also marked the beginning of our operational phase, we were no longer in transit, being guided from airport to airport. From here on out we had our feet planted firmly on the earth as with generations of grunts before us. We are, however, mounted like the cavalry, and thereby just a little better than the average grunt. Smarter, faster, and better armed and armored. Our motto, "Dragoon," is defined as a mounted warrior who dismounts for battle. We have definitely earned that title here, as I will describe later, driving across half of Iraq.

We boarded up in armored trucks and moved up North across the Euphrates. We passed IED holes and spent brass casings on our way to "Memphis bridge." Crossing through the various companies zones, we saw a profusion of construction. New schools, mosques, houses; the people up North are rebuilding with a fury. Once on the other side of the river, we were greeted with a huge surprise, especially for the old timers. Children sprang out of houses and waved and jumped up and down with huge smiles. Moms held their little ones up to see us passing, and all greeted us with warm and happy faces. There were many farms irrigated by the Euphrates, green and producing. Cattle and donkeys helped the farmers trim their crops, and farmers stopped their days work to wave as we passed. Children in schools ran to the balconies and waved at us, laughing and smiling. We were caught off guard by the "atmospherics." A new term in the working lexicon of the U.S. Marines, the term "atmospherics" is used all the time to explain how the locals view us. You'll hear an NCO talking to a new NCO saying "The atmospherics at Tinian were great, kids were smiling and waiving." We passed Iraqi Army soldiers standing post at check points. Their uniforms were clean and clearly marked, they wore sunglasses, and stood proudly. The Iraqi flag waived atop all their positions. They waved nonchalantly as we passed. We were shocked, expecting something more like the news had shown, with sporadic small arms fire and IED's detonating daily. That is a reality in other parts of Iraq as we would find out later. Here, there was peace and rebuilding that astonished most of us.

We were assigned a battlespace, to be renamed AO Dragoon (AO is Area of Operations) for our arrival. Owned by Weapons Company (Warlord) of 1st LAR (the Highlanders) from Camp Pendleton, for the previous four months. We didn't know it, but we wouldn't be here more than eleven days before being ordered elsewhere, but for now it seemed livable. There were battlepositions in our sector named for famous Marine battles, we were honored by our new mission and took stock of our situation. My opposite from 1st LAR filled us in on the mission. The Marines in his company had been working tirelessly to get connected with the locals. We were driven to the houses of all the local sheiks and they offered chai tea and discussed their problems and issues. Most had projects ongoing in their areas, from new pumphouses for irrigation to water purifiers for drinking water. Unfortunately, there are no restrictions on Syria so they dump pollutants in the water and it rolls down river into Iraq carrying disease and industrial waste. The Euphrates in AO Dragoon had tested positive for intestinal worms, chicken pox just to mention a few. I hoped the Sheiks had boiled their water well enough before serving their tea, but custom prevented me turning down their sweet-tea mixture. After we finished with the Sheiks we drove to each of the battlepositions. I had attached to my command a platoon of thirty Marines from 1st Battalion, 7th Marines. They were eager, as were we all, to get to work improving our battle positions.

Our HQ battle position was shared with the Iraqi Army, much to everyone's surprise. The partnership included an Iraqi Army Lt. Col. named Lt. Col. Najim. He and his troops would be partnered with mine in all things, and he was technically under my command. Every patrol was 50% American and 50% Iraqi. We were amazed. Could the system be working? We found the Iraqi Army soldiers to have varying levels of proficiency (one platoon was weak), with most fully capable of holding their own. The Marine Corps was definitely the enforcing power behind them, but they were professional and dedicated. It was unusual to have a HQ with an American flag on one side and our former enemies' flag on the other. I met and surveyed their troops and had a late night dinner with Lt. Colonel Najim. We discussed his plans and how we would continue the good partnership established by Highlander, 1st LAR. He asked for nothing and explained that he was very happy with the progress. He said he looked forward to a time when Americans were no longer needed, but not in a derisive manner. He said he looked more forward to when his troops were not needed to garrison the countryside, and could get to work defending their country against the Syrians and Iranians. He seemed authentically angry that they would threaten his homelands borders. He was gracious for the efforts Americans had expended to benefit his land, and looked forward to happier times with his family.

We moved into our living quarters after an exhausting day. Wooded bunks inside sandbagged bunkers were the living arrangements. The food consisted mainly of Tray-Rations, called T-rats or Tray-rats by the Marines. They come in a tin heated in a steam heater and served with canned fruit and vegetables. They always reminded me of school lunches, nutritious, flavorful, but not something Grandma would save in her recipe book. These were augmented by a huge stock pile of "extras" the Highlander Company Gunney had been hoarding. It consisted of Gatorades, muffins, granola bars, cokes and non-alcoholic beer, etc. There was a gym with weights and some cardio machines and a T.V. that wasn't working, but had DVD movies playing for the Marines.

It was here we finally accepted our vehicles. They were dirty and used, but we were glad to be Dragoons again. We accepted them, and the XO, company Gunney and Platoon Commanders Platoon Sergeants and I worked through the inventories to see what was broken missing or damaged. We assigned watch rotations for the Marines and began our "joint" patrolling and guarding post with the Iraqi Army and some of the men from Highlander. There was still enemy activity up here, but not as frequent as other places in Iraq. An occasional IED, and some "small arms fire," abbreviated in my reports as SAF. But during our ten days here we experienced little of it. The next few days we patrolled the area with our Iraqi counterparts, toured new schools, new water treatment facilities, and planned the way ahead for our Company. There was a lot of rebuilding, and Marines were the center of the construction projects. I felt more like a civil affairs officer than a ground combat commander, but if this was the new face of Iraq we were happy to have the Marines safe, and to be doing something that was useful and democratizing the people.

Nothing solidified in my mind the amazing result of all our hard work in this zone than our meting with all the Sheiks of Al Quaim. There were twenty head Sheiks. Three from AO Dragoon, and seventeen from around the area. They sat with the Colonel in charge of the Army, and the new head of police (no permanent police had arrived, that's why the Army did many things consistent with policing duties). After about an hour of arguing and deep discussions I stopped my translator mid-sentence and went out to get some of my Marines. I briefed them that inside was a Sheiks meeting, and I was astounded by what I considered "Democracy in action," in its truest form. Leaders meeting to discuss the sewage, or electricity in their areas. Leaders meeting to make life better for their families and that of their communities. Leaders sitting opposite the military and police officials, unafraid of them, and willing to tell the Iraqi troops and police what to do to better support the people. The Marines and I were impressed. Two of them, Cpl Casillas and LCpl Rodriguez, had been here last year and remember Al Quaim (abbreviated AQ). They remember suicide bombers, nightly mortars, and a people angry at the imposition of a foreign army who they considered invaders. No longer. The Marines stood in the background and let them argue and discuss, much akin to a town council meeting back in the States. I was struck by their honesty with their issues, they still seemed greedy to have their sewage repaired before their neighboring county, they still seemed motivated to get contracts signed for new schools in their district first, but what American politician isn't doing the same thing for their constituency. If we can do the same thing in the rest of Iraq, this place will be buying Levis and opening McDonalds before five years are up. I saw no reason why, at least this portion of Iraq, could not be turned over to the Iraqis within the next four months.

Our new peaceful side of the war was to change as we accepted new instructions. After ten days we were ordered to pack up everything we could carry and commit to the drive to Korean Village (abbreviated KV) in the Western Midlands of Iraq, on the Syrian border. This was the Headquarters of our faithful Battalion, the Wolfpack. A wide expanse of land called AO DENVER and AO WOLFPACK. We packed our gear and drove across the Euphrates for an evenings wait at the rail yard. Waiving goodbye to the kids and mothers as we passed the fertile farmlands one last time. The next morning we began the six hour long drive to KV. Our trip was uneventful.