Izabella...
On the morning of February 23, 2008, I sat up in bed and took my little girl from Monica’s arms and sang happy birthday to her. With tears running down my cheeks I pulled her close to me. I nuzzled and kissed the top of her head. Her little hands grabbing and pulling on my ears. I whispered in her ear, “Happy birthday mijita. Thank you for being with me.”
A year before, at around 1:30 in the morning, I awoke to a loud banging on my “can” door. In Al Asad, Iraq, military personnel are assigned to live in what amount to be upscale shipping containers, or “cans”. I opened the door and my XO was standing there. “Big Z, we just received a Red Cross message for you. Get dressed.” About five minutes later I was riding with him back to HQ, or the “hive”. (Seabee speak) “You’re wife is due any day now, right?”
“No, sir. She isn’t due for another three weeks.” I’m certain that he picked up the concern in my voice, if not my facial expressions.
“I wouldn’t worry about it.”
We walked over to the admin office and he handed me the message. “Monica Zamora. Baby on its way. Emergency room.”
“Go ahead and use that phone. I’ll be down the hall if you need anything.”
I picked up the handset and dialed. It took me no less than five tries to enter the right number. I reached my parents house, my moms and my dads’ voicemail, nothing. I called my mother in law, my brother and sisters mobile numbers, nothing. I was now in a panic. Full blown. I dialed my sisters’ number. How I remembered it, I’ll never know. One ring, two rings…
“Hello?”
“Carlos? It’s Sergio. Where’s Monica?”
“Serg?! What’s up, man? How are things in the sandbox? Is it hot?”
“Carlos! Where’s my wife?!”
“What? Oh, yeah. She’s cool. She’s at the hospital. Congrats, Big Papa! You got your little girl. But call your pops number. He’s with her now.”
I was speechless. “Thanks, bro. Later.”
I placed the phone in its cradle. The realization that my wife had delivered our little girl and the relief of knowing that they were ok started to overwhelm me but I had to talk to her or someone close to her. I dialed my Dads number again. He picked up on the first ring.
“Hello?”
“Dad. It’s me! What’s going on?”
“Mijo? Como estas? Estoy con Monica y la nina. Mijo? Sergio? Can you hear me?”
It was just too much for me. I dropped to my knees. And started crying. Everything just came out. The eight plus months of worrying over all of the little things that could go wrong during the pregnancy. The months of trying not to think about what could wrong during one of our projects, or convoys. It just all came out. I kept hearing those two words, “La Nina”, little girl. My baby girl.
“Mijo. Sergio? Are you there?”
“Si, papa. Aqui estoy. How are they?”
“Mijo, no llores. Be strong. They are fine. Everyone is fine. They are both sleeping right now but everything is ok. Be strong. Stay focused. Give thanks and get home safe, ok. Can you hear me?”
“Si papa, I know. And I will. I’ll call later, ok.”
“Si mijo. Te queremos mucho. Cuidate.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
Click. I set the phone down. I took a few minutes. Got my thoughts in order and stepped outside. The XO came out of his office.
“Mom and baby, ok?”
“Yes, sir. Good to go.”
“And you. How are you doing?”
“Good, sir. Anxious but I’ll be ok.”
About twenty minutes later I was back in my ‘can’. It was now about three in the morning and I had a hard time falling back to sleep. I kept thinking about Monica, the baby, Sergio and Marcelo and the rest of my family. I finally did fall asleep but I woke up about two hours later. I got dressed and headed to the dining facility. Word had already gone around so when I sat down with some of the guys from Alfa Co. the congratulatory words and comments started piling on. With a grin from ear to ear, I welcomed all of them. We finished up our breakfast and headed back to the hive for our briefing. I was scheduled to take part in a convoy out to one of the combat out posts that we were helping the Marines build up.
The briefing contained the usual information. Weather, time of departure and estimated time the round trip would take, road conditions, count of vehicles making the trip, escorts, etc. We went out to our vehicles and started going over our check off list again. The chaplain gathered us up for our pre-trip prayer. Just before he finished, he added, “And we want to thank you for the arrival of Baby Zamora. We ask that you keep both baby and Mom safe.” I was kind of hoping that the chaps would not mention anything about the baby’s arrival. Right when he did though, I opened my eyes and glanced around. A couple of the other members on the convoy team were burning holes into me. See, good news before a convoy can be an omen and a new baby is at the top of the list. A couple of hours later we headed out of Al Asad. Dan “Boy Band” Chen was driving our vehicle and I was running comms. At any other time, the trip to COP Ellis would take about an hour but this being a time of war; the trip took about four hours. Dan and I would normally kill time by talking, telling jokes or just BS’ing but Dan was not himself. We arrived at COP Ellis in the middle of a sand storm but we managed to unload the gear and materials that we were hauling. The plan was to spend the night but our senior chief decided to head back. A bad sign? Maybe. We loaded up again and rolled out. On the way out of Ellis we passed by a group of fellow ‘Bees.’ One of them being my brother from another mother, Mary Gill. He was driving a dozer and made his way over to the road but once the convoy starts rolling along, we can’t stop. I opened the door and started to holler at him. Between the sand and the vehicles noises, we couldn’t make out what we were trying to say to eachother. I got on the radio and started talking to him and some of the other ‘bees that out there with Marty.
“Hey, Z! We heard about the baby! Congrats.”
“Yeah, man. Congrats. Tell Monica that we send our best!”
“Thanks, man! Everything is cool. I’m riding with Dan-O. You guys be careful! And we will see you in a few days.”
“What’s up Dan-O!!! You guys be good and have a safe trip back home.” (Al Asad)
The convoy kept rolling out and pretty soon, I could no longer hear them. Dan and I have a solid relationship with Marty and leaving him at the COP weighed heavy on us. It would have been great to get the chance to spend an evening with him and the other ‘Bees, shoot the breeze, catch up, smoke a cigar or two but orders are orders.
We rolled along but I kept noticing that Dan was not saying much. I did not bring it up. The sun was now on the horizon. I don’t know if it’s just me but once the sun sets over there, it get dark in a hurry. I mean pitch black. The lead vehicle came across something suspicious, so the convoy came to a halt. And over the radio I hear, “Dismount. 5 and 25.” A “5 and 25” is a perimeter search around the vehicle that either the driver or the comms guy has to conduct.
“Dan, I got it. I’ll be right back.”
I grabbed my rifle. Pulled the charging handle back and let it go. “Clack!” Loaded. I opened the door and looked out at twelve o’clock. Nothing. I turned on my flashlight, checked the ground below me. Nothing. I hopped out of the rig and started my perimeter search. The muzzle of my rifle and the flashlight pointed at the ground, two to four feet ahead of me. I kept my feet moving, not too fast but not too slow either. I was looking for footprints, tracks and more importantly, wires. I continued with my sweep. I finished the “5” and headed further out for the “25”. I kept my weapon and beam moving back and forth but then I did the one thing that they warned us not to do. I lost focus. Here I am, middle of the desert, BFE or BFI, walking along with a flashlight to give away my position and I lose focus? I’m walking along and my mind goes from “Footprints. Tracks, Wires. Footprints. Tracks. Wires.” To, “Gee, I wonder how Monica and the baby are doing? I’m a dad. I’m a dad to a beautiful baby girl!” I stopped looking at the ground and my gaze went up to the star filled evening sky. “We have a baby girl!” And then it hit me. A little voice asked, “Hey stupid, what are we doing out here?” Huh? Out where? What? Oh fuck. I stopped in mid step. I looked down and sure enough, wires. I froze. I took a deep breath and ever so gently and slowly I put my foot back down. I looked down and noticed that there were two wires on the ground but I could make out both ends. Just left overs. After cursing at myself for 10-15 seconds, I finished with my sweep and climbed back into the rig.
“Everything cool?”
“Yup.”
About five minutes later we received the call to head out again. About two hours later we were back at camp. And again I noticed that Dan did not say a whole lot. After securing our rig and our gear we made it back to our cans. It was now just before ten at night. Dan and I hooked up for our post convoy trip ritual of smoking a stogie. We sat there in the dark for a few minutes, looking up at the sky, trying to unwind from a long and bumpy day. The smoke from the cigars lingering over our heads. Both us leaning back in our chairs, looking up at the stars. Our thoughts, as always, on home and on our loved ones.
“Hey Dan. Everything all right? You haven’t been yourself today.”
The question just hung there for a bit. After a few seconds, I heard Dan shift in his chair. I looked over at him. I could see tears in his eyes.
“Bro, I just want to get you home to your little girl.”
We both looked back up at the stars.
“Thanks, Dan. Love you, bro.”
A year before, at around 1:30 in the morning, I awoke to a loud banging on my “can” door. In Al Asad, Iraq, military personnel are assigned to live in what amount to be upscale shipping containers, or “cans”. I opened the door and my XO was standing there. “Big Z, we just received a Red Cross message for you. Get dressed.” About five minutes later I was riding with him back to HQ, or the “hive”. (Seabee speak) “You’re wife is due any day now, right?”
“No, sir. She isn’t due for another three weeks.” I’m certain that he picked up the concern in my voice, if not my facial expressions.
“I wouldn’t worry about it.”
We walked over to the admin office and he handed me the message. “Monica Zamora. Baby on its way. Emergency room.”
“Go ahead and use that phone. I’ll be down the hall if you need anything.”
I picked up the handset and dialed. It took me no less than five tries to enter the right number. I reached my parents house, my moms and my dads’ voicemail, nothing. I called my mother in law, my brother and sisters mobile numbers, nothing. I was now in a panic. Full blown. I dialed my sisters’ number. How I remembered it, I’ll never know. One ring, two rings…
“Hello?”
“Carlos? It’s Sergio. Where’s Monica?”
“Serg?! What’s up, man? How are things in the sandbox? Is it hot?”
“Carlos! Where’s my wife?!”
“What? Oh, yeah. She’s cool. She’s at the hospital. Congrats, Big Papa! You got your little girl. But call your pops number. He’s with her now.”
I was speechless. “Thanks, bro. Later.”
I placed the phone in its cradle. The realization that my wife had delivered our little girl and the relief of knowing that they were ok started to overwhelm me but I had to talk to her or someone close to her. I dialed my Dads number again. He picked up on the first ring.
“Hello?”
“Dad. It’s me! What’s going on?”
“Mijo? Como estas? Estoy con Monica y la nina. Mijo? Sergio? Can you hear me?”
It was just too much for me. I dropped to my knees. And started crying. Everything just came out. The eight plus months of worrying over all of the little things that could go wrong during the pregnancy. The months of trying not to think about what could wrong during one of our projects, or convoys. It just all came out. I kept hearing those two words, “La Nina”, little girl. My baby girl.
“Mijo. Sergio? Are you there?”
“Si, papa. Aqui estoy. How are they?”
“Mijo, no llores. Be strong. They are fine. Everyone is fine. They are both sleeping right now but everything is ok. Be strong. Stay focused. Give thanks and get home safe, ok. Can you hear me?”
“Si papa, I know. And I will. I’ll call later, ok.”
“Si mijo. Te queremos mucho. Cuidate.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
Click. I set the phone down. I took a few minutes. Got my thoughts in order and stepped outside. The XO came out of his office.
“Mom and baby, ok?”
“Yes, sir. Good to go.”
“And you. How are you doing?”
“Good, sir. Anxious but I’ll be ok.”
About twenty minutes later I was back in my ‘can’. It was now about three in the morning and I had a hard time falling back to sleep. I kept thinking about Monica, the baby, Sergio and Marcelo and the rest of my family. I finally did fall asleep but I woke up about two hours later. I got dressed and headed to the dining facility. Word had already gone around so when I sat down with some of the guys from Alfa Co. the congratulatory words and comments started piling on. With a grin from ear to ear, I welcomed all of them. We finished up our breakfast and headed back to the hive for our briefing. I was scheduled to take part in a convoy out to one of the combat out posts that we were helping the Marines build up.
The briefing contained the usual information. Weather, time of departure and estimated time the round trip would take, road conditions, count of vehicles making the trip, escorts, etc. We went out to our vehicles and started going over our check off list again. The chaplain gathered us up for our pre-trip prayer. Just before he finished, he added, “And we want to thank you for the arrival of Baby Zamora. We ask that you keep both baby and Mom safe.” I was kind of hoping that the chaps would not mention anything about the baby’s arrival. Right when he did though, I opened my eyes and glanced around. A couple of the other members on the convoy team were burning holes into me. See, good news before a convoy can be an omen and a new baby is at the top of the list. A couple of hours later we headed out of Al Asad. Dan “Boy Band” Chen was driving our vehicle and I was running comms. At any other time, the trip to COP Ellis would take about an hour but this being a time of war; the trip took about four hours. Dan and I would normally kill time by talking, telling jokes or just BS’ing but Dan was not himself. We arrived at COP Ellis in the middle of a sand storm but we managed to unload the gear and materials that we were hauling. The plan was to spend the night but our senior chief decided to head back. A bad sign? Maybe. We loaded up again and rolled out. On the way out of Ellis we passed by a group of fellow ‘Bees.’ One of them being my brother from another mother, Mary Gill. He was driving a dozer and made his way over to the road but once the convoy starts rolling along, we can’t stop. I opened the door and started to holler at him. Between the sand and the vehicles noises, we couldn’t make out what we were trying to say to eachother. I got on the radio and started talking to him and some of the other ‘bees that out there with Marty.
“Hey, Z! We heard about the baby! Congrats.”
“Yeah, man. Congrats. Tell Monica that we send our best!”
“Thanks, man! Everything is cool. I’m riding with Dan-O. You guys be careful! And we will see you in a few days.”
“What’s up Dan-O!!! You guys be good and have a safe trip back home.” (Al Asad)
The convoy kept rolling out and pretty soon, I could no longer hear them. Dan and I have a solid relationship with Marty and leaving him at the COP weighed heavy on us. It would have been great to get the chance to spend an evening with him and the other ‘Bees, shoot the breeze, catch up, smoke a cigar or two but orders are orders.
We rolled along but I kept noticing that Dan was not saying much. I did not bring it up. The sun was now on the horizon. I don’t know if it’s just me but once the sun sets over there, it get dark in a hurry. I mean pitch black. The lead vehicle came across something suspicious, so the convoy came to a halt. And over the radio I hear, “Dismount. 5 and 25.” A “5 and 25” is a perimeter search around the vehicle that either the driver or the comms guy has to conduct.
“Dan, I got it. I’ll be right back.”
I grabbed my rifle. Pulled the charging handle back and let it go. “Clack!” Loaded. I opened the door and looked out at twelve o’clock. Nothing. I turned on my flashlight, checked the ground below me. Nothing. I hopped out of the rig and started my perimeter search. The muzzle of my rifle and the flashlight pointed at the ground, two to four feet ahead of me. I kept my feet moving, not too fast but not too slow either. I was looking for footprints, tracks and more importantly, wires. I continued with my sweep. I finished the “5” and headed further out for the “25”. I kept my weapon and beam moving back and forth but then I did the one thing that they warned us not to do. I lost focus. Here I am, middle of the desert, BFE or BFI, walking along with a flashlight to give away my position and I lose focus? I’m walking along and my mind goes from “Footprints. Tracks, Wires. Footprints. Tracks. Wires.” To, “Gee, I wonder how Monica and the baby are doing? I’m a dad. I’m a dad to a beautiful baby girl!” I stopped looking at the ground and my gaze went up to the star filled evening sky. “We have a baby girl!” And then it hit me. A little voice asked, “Hey stupid, what are we doing out here?” Huh? Out where? What? Oh fuck. I stopped in mid step. I looked down and sure enough, wires. I froze. I took a deep breath and ever so gently and slowly I put my foot back down. I looked down and noticed that there were two wires on the ground but I could make out both ends. Just left overs. After cursing at myself for 10-15 seconds, I finished with my sweep and climbed back into the rig.
“Everything cool?”
“Yup.”
About five minutes later we received the call to head out again. About two hours later we were back at camp. And again I noticed that Dan did not say a whole lot. After securing our rig and our gear we made it back to our cans. It was now just before ten at night. Dan and I hooked up for our post convoy trip ritual of smoking a stogie. We sat there in the dark for a few minutes, looking up at the sky, trying to unwind from a long and bumpy day. The smoke from the cigars lingering over our heads. Both us leaning back in our chairs, looking up at the stars. Our thoughts, as always, on home and on our loved ones.
“Hey Dan. Everything all right? You haven’t been yourself today.”
The question just hung there for a bit. After a few seconds, I heard Dan shift in his chair. I looked over at him. I could see tears in his eyes.
“Bro, I just want to get you home to your little girl.”
We both looked back up at the stars.
“Thanks, Dan. Love you, bro.”
posted by szamora at 12:12 PM
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