When generals are involved, there’s a lot of saluting. Even when it’s simply the plane they are on arriving on the taxiway.

Aerial photos are fickle things. Different perspective, yeah, but the danger is not having a clear focus as to what’s going on in the photo. For me, it’s all about patterns.  Find the pattern on the ground and that’s one way to move things through the image. When I was flying with the “Angry Birds” (Nope, I’m not talking about the game. If you’re feeling slightly out of sorts, look two posts back.) I kept noticing all these patterns on the ground as we flew from the urban areas of Baghdad, over the Tigris and out over various desert landscapes.

The patterns. The Tigris itself, winding it’s way through the desert. And the the canals. Lots of canals. Irrigation for farming. The turquoise water looking slightly unnatural as it strikes a straight line through the sand. The water greener against the tanscape. (Yes, I just made up a word. Pretty apropos, I think.)

Then there were these two that are essentially the same image. The same strong diagonal line. The same vastness of space. But, one could be Iowa with its deep greens and rich, loamy earth and the other could be Tatooine, a sea of unending tan. The structure there even looks somewhat like Luke Skywalker’s home. It’s not. Rather, it’s a train station.

And then there were the cars. The vast parking lot of yellow and white sedans and vans all parked in wavering, unsteady lines looking like a traffic jam of taxi cabs.

It’s the patterns. I kept seeing these and others all day. Aerial photos are fickle things. Different perspective, but it’s all about the pattern to help bring that out.

I never knew Spc. Marcos Cintron, but he seemed like a decent guy. The sort that you’d want on your side.  He was married, had a few kids, and by all accounts continually went out of his way to help others, even when he really didn’t have to. He made sure everybody was taken care of and if assistance was needed he was there, and often was a source of inspiration for many he knew.  So say those that knew him. He was also one of the last U.S. servicemembers to be killed in Iraq. A distinction, I’m sure, he did not want.

It was a rocket attack. Forward Operating Base Loyalty, located in central Baghdad, on a mid-summer evening as the temperatures were sliding down from blistering to simply really hot.  He was one of seven killed in the attack.

His death—as well as the others—was felt throughout the unit. Memorial services were held for each, with Cintron’s being held later on as he held strong for a week or so before succumbing to his wounds. At Cintron’s ceremony, Soldiers shared stories and jokes about him. They reveled in and remembered who he was. The good times. The times he made them all laugh or those other times where he helped them through some unwieldy task.The ceremony was similar to some 4000 other ceremonies held since 2003, which provided one way for those that knew him in the unit to both celebrate who he was and share in their collective grief.

Photographing said ceremonies nearly always feels a little off. A little intrusive. A tourist in all the wrong ways. But you figure out a way to work around that. Look for the little moments. Stay unobtrusive. And woe is the jerk that blasts away with the flash.

I’ve photographed a few of these over the years and each time and it gets me every time when, at the conclusion of the ceremony, the unit first sergeant calls out the names on the unit roster with each Soldier responding “Here , First Sergeant.” In this case, all, except for one. The name is called again and then a third time. At which point somebody replies that person is now longer there.

And then Taps is played, mournful and solemn, with those in attendance each filing past the boots, rifle and helmet memorial representing the fallen. Many reach out and grasp the dog tags that hang there, caught up in their own thoughts trying to connect through a physical reminder of the person.

I never knew Spc. Marcos Cintron. But, at the end, I felt like I did.

It’s been awhile. Going on three months now. Lots going on in that time. Came back from Iraq. Moved. Went a few places. Lounged around. The holidays came and went. Pretty soon the New Year was here. So, here we are.

Before moving on to new stuff I probably should close out on images made in Iraq. So, that’s what this and the next post or two are going to be focused on. Iraq. Seems so far away in some respects, both in the time since I was personally there, but also in the greater public consciousness. For something that caused so much debate, discussion, emotion and turmoil, it’s seemingly vanished from the headlines so to speak. And quickly.

But, these images were from time spent flying with folks from C Company, 2nd Battalion, 224th Aviation Regiment–the “Angry Birds”–whose main mission was ferrying troops from one location to another in Iraq. Helicopters were the Greyhound of Iraq. Often cramped, but they got you where you needed to go and weren’t quite so prone to tripping off roadside bombs.

The day starts early for the aircrew. Mission brief just after 4 a.m. and then it’s off to pre-flight the aircraft.

Chief Warrant Officer Luciana “Spence” Spencer, on ground, and Capt. Nicholas Kiaunis pre-flight a UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter prior to flying that day’s mission.

The planning and prep for the day starts well before daybreak, but the sun is up as the crew prepares to take off. Spc. Lawrence Totemeh–dubbed “Total Mayhem” by his crew mates as a take off on his last name–prepares to mount an M240G machine gun to the aircraft. As a crew chief, Totemeh is responsible for all passengers and cargo in the aircraft, as well as manning the defenses for the aircraft should the need arise.

Spencer takes the Blackhawk into the air as the crew gets the mission underway. During the six-hour mission they will criss-cross the skies throughout central Iraq carrying troops and cargo from base to base.

Once in the air, things quickly fall into an easy routine.

During a stop to pick up passengers, Totemeh helps carry a duffel bag and rucksack for one of the troops getting on the aircraft.

Totemeh also helps out with those having trouble with buckling the seat harness.

Back in the air, the day quickly becomes a routine of flying here and dropping troops off, picking up others or cargo and flying somewhere else.

Totemeh keeps an eye out for obstacles that may be unseen by the pilot as they return to the airfield. One on the ground, though, the aircraft must go through a post-flight check and get prepped for the next days’ mission.

Sgt. Stephen Scott

U.S. Army

Sgt. Stephen Scott is a bad ass. Just look at that photo. OK, so on a day-to-day basis, he’s really not quite so crazy looking as the above photo, but, ask him nearly anything about the Army supply system and he’s on it. Give him a task that requires navigating the labyrinth of getting stuff from whatever source warehouse to the folks in his unit and he’s usually there before you asked for it. A sort of modern-day version of Radar O’Reilly.

And taking care of supply issues is no cake walk. On the surface it’s pretty simple stuff–take this box of stuff from X location, bring it to Y location and distribute it. But there are forms to fill out, inventory to count and keeping accountability of both monetary funds and a galaxy of items from bolts to Humvees. He makes it look easy, which is often one of the marks of a true professional. And, he does it all with an easy-going, often self-depreciating humour.

So, in that sense Sgt. Stephen Scott, is, indeed, a bad ass.

]]> http://jonsoucy.wordpress.com/2011/10/02/supply/feed/ 0 jsoucy2 Sgt. Stephen Scott (U.S. Army Photo by Sgt. 1st Class Jon Soucy)(Released) http://jonsoucy.wordpress.com/2011/09/26/grizzy/ http://jonsoucy.wordpress.com/2011/09/26/grizzy/#comments Mon, 26 Sep 2011 18:48:53 +0000 jsoucy2 http://jonsoucy.wordpress.com/?p=844 ]]>

Downtime in Iraq is usually filled with a myriad of things from watching movies on a computer to writing letters and nearly anything in between. For Sgt. Edwin “Grizzy” Gray, that downtime is often filled with something related to chess. If he’s not playing a game against an actual person, he can often be found playing against the computer. He’s got a few key strategies that come from playing his father, who was a ranking player of some variety in the chess world. In a sense, that’s sort of made him the Bobby Fischer of his unit.

In fact, the running joke is that the questions isn’t “So, playing a chess game against Gray?” it’s more like “Losing a game of chess to Gray?”

Downtime. Iraq. I’m not sure if he was actually playing chess here, though chances are he was giving the computer a run for its money so to speak.

Baghdad, at night, from a UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter is a shimmering carpet of lights.

Pfc. Justin Hagarman

Convoy

Baghdad

When it comes to convoy operations, it’s the turret gunner who is arguably the most important person of the truck crew. Sure, the driver keeps pace with other vehicles in the convoy and is the one that can change direction to avoid a threat or get around an obstacle.

The truck commander has his/ her hands full with being in charge of the whole crew and monitoring progress and maintaining communication. But it’s the turret gunner who perhaps has the largest responsibility.

Besides the obvious task of providing overwatch security for their own truck—as well as communicating and working with the gunners from other trucks in the convoy to provide security for the convoy as a whole—the gunner also has a myriad of other tasks ranging from crossing guard and traffic cop to rearview back-up camera.

It’s the gunner who will use hand and arm signals to warn other drivers to stay back, or direct them ahead. It’s usually the gunner who calls out potential areas of concern, since he/ she has the greater overall view. And, it’s the gunner who keeps eyes on what’s behind the truck when the driver is backing up.

And the gunner does all this while standing half in and half out of the vehicle, usually getting jostled around with each jarring bump. And when it rains, it’s the gunner who gets soaked. And baked when the sun is glaring down. (Though often there’s a canopy over the turret for shade.)

When it comes to convoy operations it’s the turret gunner who arguably is the most important person. But they also get the wind whipping past, as if they’re in the world’s goofiest convertible.

Color Guard

25th Infantry Division

Assumption of Responsibility ceremony

The U.S. military has a seemingly unending number of traditions or ceremonial aspects to it. Each one often carries with it a larger symbolism for something and at times even the most benign aspects take on a whole new ceremonial direction. The change of command or assumption of responsibility  ceremony is one such event. The event basically says someone got a new job. Or, more accurately, someone in a certain rank or certain position got a new job.

Visually speaking, each change of command ceremony is basically the same. It’s just the people and location involved that’s different. Since there are certain, specific moments you need to capture–such as the handing of the unit guidon to the incoming person, which symbolically says they’ve taken over the unit/ the duties of the job–sometimes it’s easy to go on auto-pilot. Even easier since often the ceremony itself is held in a less-than-visually-ideal location.

But, as with most things, it’s all about keeping open to the possibilities of finding something different.

…I wanna live a life of danger. Or, so says the running cadence. And,  for certain members of 1st Battalion, 18th Infantry Regiment, earning the Ranger Tab–and the title of Ranger–is a big goal. However, the selection process is a grueling, often arduous task. Starting at 5 a.m., potential Ranger candidates are put through their paces with push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups and then a five-mile run.

At the end of that, it’s then on to the Combat Water Survival Test, where they first have to jump into the water in full uniform and remove all gear while underwater. After that, the requirement is to swim for a specified distance–still fully clothed–while keeping the muzzle of their assigned weapon above the water’s surface. For many who tried out, the swim test was the most grueling aspect of the selection process.

For some, it was being underwater without being able to maintain focus that caused them to panic. The result was a frantic splashing for either a thrown flotation device or a panicked grasp for the edge of the pool. For others, being underwater,or in deep water, wasn’t the issue. Instead, it was simply the mechanics of having to move through the water while holding an eight-pound object up and fighting against the drag caused  by waterlogged uniforms. It was the physical aspect of aching muscles and tired limbs that failed them.

And this was just the start of the day. By 8 a.m., and a short break for breakfast, many candidates found themselves already exhausted, yet the bulk of the testing hadn’t even started. The rest of the morning was, for some, a heavy-lidded, sleep-hazed blur of map reading, testing on weapons knowledge and basic infantry skills.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, the heat of the Iraqi summer hung on tired muscles like the weight of wondering who would make it. The final test, which started at 3 a.m. the following day, was a 12-mile road march with full gear and carrying a 35-pound rucksack, to be completed in less that four hours.

For some, it was an easy walk. But for others, the already-exhausted muscles from the day before meant it was arguably the most grueling 12-miles they had ever encountered.  And they hadn’t even made it into the school yet. By meeting the challenge here at Camp Taji, Iraq, it simply meant the opportunity to go. Once in Ranger School, the challenges there would make this look like summer camp. And for those who made it through, that’s all part of wanting to earn the right to be called Ranger.