Just like Iraq...

1) Bella and me.
2) Bella and a smaller version of Old Glory.

3) Bella and Sergio II "Ichiro", (translated: First born son)

4) Bella with our famous West Texas skies behind her.


5) Bella on Easter Sunday. Check out the static hair.

Gulfport, MS Aug & Sep 2007.
It’s hot but it’s the humidity that is eating us up. The humidity never goes away, even at night but the command has training in this crap, geared up, to get us ready for the conditions that we will face in Iraq. Hello? Iraq is dry. There is zero humidity. It is either incredibly hot, or freakin’ hot and in the winter it cools down to just hot but at night it gets incredibly cold. But we went through the training, a bunch of guys got hurt. Ankles, knees, backs etc. Dehydration, heat stress and we weren’t even in country yet. Sept. 11, we land in Kuwait. The door to the plane opens up and it was like trying to breath through my wife’s blow drier on high. Jeez, it was hot and it was close to one in the morning! We walked off of the plan and less than 100 yards later we were covered in sweat. Argh! “Hey Zamora, you’re from Texas. You’re used to this, right?” Fuck no. It does get hot in West Texas but nothing, nothing like it does over there. Four days later we land in Iraq, it’s close to two in the morning and it is even hotter. “Hey Zamora..” Fuck off. The next day we show up at our camp and the guys that we were relieving notice us struggling with the 120-125 degree heat. “You guys should have been here two months ago. We pegged out at 145.” A month later I went out on my first mission, “outside the wire”. We landed in Rawah, Iraq. According to the flight line thermometer, it was a cool 118. Nice. We walked around the camp and onto the side of a small camp to survey our work site. As far as you could see, nothing. Just barren ground. No vegetation at all. “Hey Zamora, this must remind you of home.” Fuck.
Yes, El Paso is in the desert but believe me it is nothing like Iraq. We have trees, bushes and shrubs here. On occasion, our creeks and river beds actually have water running along them. And yes, driving along the outskirts of town I do see something that reminds of my time over there but like Iraq? Come on. Nothing compares to that place especially after Saddam found out we were coming. He uprooted the irrigation systems that he had installed throughout the country. I saw pictures of the place and let me tell you, it was something right out of The Bible Stories. Lush, green, beautiful. But not anymore. That Iraq is long gone. So what in the hell are we still doing over there?

Yesterday, one year later….

March 23 2007; I made an unassuming entrance back into the lives of my wife, my children and my parents. In that order. I spent a good chunk of my yesterday thinking about my last few days in Iraq, in Kuwait and finally in Gulfport, Mississippi before jumping in my rental car and heading home. I can tell you that I made the drive on my own but I’d be lying to you. Guilt was riding next to me. Strapped in and nagging me the whole way home. The drive itself took almost 20 hours but it is all a blur. I wish that I could share with you some of the songs that were playing on the radio that I sang along to and that kept me rolling along but nothing comes to mind. I did my share of crying. I cried for the guys that I went over with, the ones that went before me, the ones that getting ready to go over and finally, for the ones that will never come back. I fought with the guilt. My thoughts switched over to my wife and my two boys and then more guilt set in. It was not the special events, birthdays, the holidays that gave me a gut check but the moments when late at night my boys and my wife thought about me and I was not around to make them feel safe, or to just watch them sleeping from just outside their rooms. This is what weighed on me then, and sometimes it weighs on me still.

There are days and nights that I look through photos or read through this blog and I almost have to convince myself that I was in fact in a war zone, that I was gone for almost a year and that yes, I am not the same man that I was before I left. Was I ever really gone? Have I really come back? I miss my buddies. Marty, Dan Chen, Cunningham, Chacon, Chavez, Cubby, Woody and so many more. Guys that helped me keep it together. Guys that will be my compadres, mis carnales until the end of my days.

A couple of weeks ago, the city of El Paso decided to have a huge parade for all of the military personnel that had returned from Iraq and Afghanistan in 2007. I was not going to take part but my kids asked about it and then my command issued a “friendly” reminder that we should be a part of it. I am glad I did. It was a beautiful sun filled day. I showed up at the starting point in my desert cammies. This being an army town, 99.9% of the participants were Army and wearing those funky digital cammies. I walked up and down the long line of platoons and companies looking form my guys, all two of them. Those Army guys looked at me like I had worn the wrong uniform. But I kept looking. I went up to a captain, popped a salute and said, “Sir, I was ordered to show up but I am not sure where I am supposed to be.” He looked at my uniform and said, “Navy right?” (Genius.) “Yeah, you guys are in the back.” (Go figure.) I headed to the back of the line(s) and sure enough Maya and Alvarado were in place, holding our flag with the Seabee on it. The parade kicked off and we headed down Montana Ave. towards downtown. Immediately, I was struck by the number of people that lined the streets, I heard that more than 15,000 people showed up, ON A WEDNESDAY!!! I was amazed, humbled and overjoyed. I tried to not look around too much, but seeing the Red, White and Blue on flags, banners, clothing it was incredible. And the kids? Oh man, the kids. They were cheering, jumping around, smiling. And the Veterans: Gulf War,Vietnam, Korea and WWII saluting us? I chocked the tears back and then, through all of this sensory overload, I spot my dad, standing alone, taking pictures and then we made eye contact. That did it. That moment took me back to when I graduated boot camp. And that marked the second time that I had seen my dad cry. I looked at him and gave him the thumbs up. That was the third time that my dad cried in front of me.