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Glandorf 30 January 2005

30 Jan 2005

To Everyone,

I'm starting to get a little bit smarter on how I email now. Not having a computer with an internet connection, it is much easier to write my emails before I send them so I'm not as pressed for time. I also have found a program that will compress my pictures to send to all of you. I know that they are small but this way I can attach more. I think thus far everyone enjoys the email messages, but each picture can fill in the visual gaps that I cannot create in your minds.

Well, today is the day of the elections. For everyone back home I'm sure you are glued to the television and listening to the frightening reports of suicide bombers and multiple rocket attacks on the Baghdad area "Green Zone". Tragic this is for all of them who truly live a daily life of much greater fear of the eminent threat than we do here in the southern region of the country. Yes, our security has been heightened here also. There are numerous mounted patrols circling the perimeter looking for all suspicious activity. These men and women have more weaponry with them than any one armory in our state and believe me they do not hesitate to use them. Also, from our building, the "thwopping" sound of helicopters can be heard overhead as the air security forces patrol the perimeter, looking for again suspicious activity.

For the next couple of days, there are many restrictions placed upon us. We are in "full battle rattle" when we leave our buildings to travel outside, even to pay homage to the "plastic princess", aka, porter-potty. So again, the day includes an endless routine of putting on and pulling off gear every time we move. Yes, it is inconvenient, but it's better than riding in the gun box of a Hummer for 8 hours, having the wind and dust blow in your face in 50-degree weather, such as the patrols are doing right now.

This week again consisted of the office. We are becoming routine to keeping schedules and are inundated with briefings and meetings. This is the way of those who sit on top, and for those like myself who support them, our days are structured the same. The days are long but it keeps the mind from wandering into boredom.

I do have very good news today. The ground is almost dry! This is really improving the morale and making living conditions much cleaner. Now we don't have to worry about tracking "gumbo" into our trailers. This means less time spent cleaning and more time for reading, going to the gym or watching movies. At this point, those are pretty much our options of things to do. It is too cold at night to socialize outside the trailers and the trailers are too small to congregate. I'm sure all this will change when the weather gets warmer. Also, since our subordinate units finally took over the Sapper living area, we now have a softball field and are creating teams for a tournament! Ironically, the softball field sustained more injuries over the past year for the units here than any other area around Tallil, figures.

This week we had two major events. The first was our ceremony that transferred to us our authority here in Iraq. It was a nice ceremony. One that included troops in line, banners and flags flying, speeches from the incoming and outgoing commander guests of honor, plaques of appreciation and all the other formalities included in these types of events. And it was all closely watched by my favorite part…our Snipers on the roof, with all their weaponry at the ready, including one very large M-2 machine gun (if you don't know what it is, it's big, with about a 7 inch round!) So yes, we still are being safe. With that over, we officially began our operations here in Iraq.

The next day (Saturday), we took an Official tour of the Ziggurat, which my photos today consist of. This tour was simply amazing. Our tour guide Daif (Dye-eef) is a resident next to the temple. He is a third generation curator here. His grandfather was part of the original English Expedition to uncover the temple in 1922. Since then, his family has given the official-unofficial tour of the area. What is strange is that I don't believe he is officially sanctioned. The temple is on Iraqi government land, but being in our perimeter, they have no access to it. We in essence are the protectors of this holy place. We patrol it and we allow Daif to continue his tours and to live here I guess, which we all greatly appreciate.

Daif is a small, reserved and quiet man. His age was estimated to be between late thirties and sixties (we didn't ask). It's hard to tell because we haven't been exposed to how people of this area age yet. We assume being exposed to the elements; he would age more rapidly and look older than his actual age. As he spoke, his voice was very confident, his words factual without any hint of exaggeration or misguidance. His English was clear with a strong accent, but easily understood. Giving the general history of the area as he started out, he quoted the exact dates of construction of the temples around us. He quoted all measurements and heights to the centimeter. In between his lesson, he cited exact versus from the Bible and Koran detailing the origins of this area along with numerous published materials about Ur.

As he led us to the first rubble structure, which had an arch at the entranceway, he explained that this land was the birthplace of many things. First, this is the area in which the WHEEL was invented! (my head dropped and my eyes bulged) Absolutely extraordinary. None of us expected that to be a part of the tour. Clutched in his hand was a binder full of visual aides detailing the types of wheels they created out of wood and carved rock. As we made our way to the temple, Daif explained that this land was called Ur, which means "city" and that in this small area, the temple we were moving towards was built by Nebuchadnezzar, the same who built the Hanging Gardens of Babylonia (I may be wrong here but I'm close). Directly behind this structure was the excavated tombs of the Kings and the servants of the Gods who ruled the city. And beyond that was the house of Abraham's father! All of this was within a 5-minute walking distance.

As we entered the small temple, he explained that the arches here predated all Roman arches. The floors and walls were original, but the roofing was long gone. We stood in a large opening and he pointed to a higher elevation of the room where a ceremonial alter once stood. Under this, we were told many relics were found. At this alter, the people worshipped the Moon god. This god was chosen because Ur was close to a river and at night as they looked upon the sky and looked down from this area upon the river, they saw the moon in two places and thought it to be the controlling force of their prosperity. This large, white untouchable object in the sky which had an identical reflection in the water as any man did was greater than they because at night, the moon itself held its reflection upon the water, shimmering brighter and stronger than any object held here on land. Not being able to measure vertical distance, they built these temples, this one and the Ziggurat behind it to "climb" towards the moon to be for all they knew, the closest people on earth to the god, whom would bring them all prosperity for their acts of respect and sacrifice.

Leaving here, we entered a maze of small, shallow walls about three feet high that were configured much like a garden of hedges. We zigzagged back and forth until we all caught up with Daif in a large area we assumed was a living room of sorts. This entire complex he explained was once the palace of the King of Ur who built the Ziggurat. Over the years, the walls had eroded and fallen to the level they are now. The elevation of the floor here was the same as the Ziggurat, only a few hundred meters away, indicating that they were built at the same time period, all of this over 4,100 years ago. In the corner of the room stood a small boulder with a round divot on the top, much like that on a golf ball but much larger, and we were told this was used as a pivot for a door. This door was believed to lead to a bathroom that had a configuration for plumbing! As we walked past the ancient water closet, we came to the rear of the house (which spanned 55meters square) where the tombs of the Kings of Ur were unearthed.

Much like those in Egypt, the tombs were underground. Some were very shallow in the earth from where we stood and these were dug for the servants and common people. We walked to the edge of a large crater in the ground where upon looking down, it appeared that a building had been buried beneath us. About 30-40 feet down, were large triangular entrances layered with clay bricks leading to large openings into the earth. Unable to safely descend into the hole from our vantage point, we stood in awe at the massive entranceway to an ancient tomb of unknown corridors and rooms full of rich history. A place that only until recently was only seen under the light of a burning torch. I envisioned that over years, men and women dug with their hands and shovels, carrying clay earth out one basket at a time in the sweltering summer heat so that they may rest their Kings and Queens in a proper tomb for their journey into the underworld. Beneath this sand was a maze of tunnels that were once filled with priceless artifacts for the occupants to use in the afterlife. This forgotten place had been hidden for thousands of years, its wonders of architecture and craftsmanship forgotten until recently as our cultures, religions and ways of thinking have all changed from that time period. Where endless wars were fought over the forty centuries and still today, a mere 100 feet above these tombs, undisturbing the precious time capsule that lay beneath the sand…

Oh, if I had only truly been my father's son, I would have scaled down the walls to the entrance like Indian Jones, flashlight in hand, ducked under the archway and descended into the darkness toward the chamber of the King to find the secret passage not yet discovered. All reprimands and punishments be damned, this was truly the one chance of a lifetime. And by chance, if the earth came crashing down upon me as I passed through the corridors and was trapped forever, I would have left this world in a manner more glorious than the finest burial of modern royalty. My resting place would have been in the land close where God himself created man, between the Tigris and the Euphrates. And as my body fuzed with the earth, I would have fertilized the very soil that gave birth to the grain that fed Abraham as a baby, the first of all Prophets. There I would lie upon the holiest of grounds where man became civilized, where God gave them vision, where the roots of our very origins and culture sprouted, and where today, we have come back to help the people of this region regain their strength and once again, rise up against the odds and empower themselves to lead each other as a unified people. Oh how perfect it would be!…but I am not my father, and his curiosity runs deeper through his veins than mine.

At this point, Daif informed us that a Queen had been buried in one of the chambers here and that upon unearthing her tomb, a 3-foot tall golden harp had been found. He showed us a picture and it was simply beautiful. We were told that upon the death of the Kings and Queens, possessions were put in their tombs. Along with that, the servants of the Kings, who were respected and revered as gods were given a poisonous drink and were buried alive in the tombs surrounding their masters.

As we marched around the site, billions of pieces of pottery, some large and some small littered the earth like gravel. Daif pointed to a stone on a small wall that had clear text on it. He noted that it was called cuneiform, a form of writing that pre-dated hieroglyphics in Egypt. We then came to a small tomb in the ground with steps leading down. I now had the chance to make my father proud. We slowly crept down the slippery steps and came to an opening about three feet above the ground. We took turns going in and after about 3 feet past the opening, the room rose to 7 feet or more. As we stood and turned on our flashlights, I noticed that the inner walls were constructed in a pyramid shape, lined again with clay bricks that were covered with cuneiform and bleached with salt. The tomb was dark and the walls were narrow. As we looked up, some of the bricks and rocks lining the roof were eroding, and barely hanging onto their platform. We slowly and cautiously made our way back outside. What a rush it is to stand in a tomb that had been covered and forgotten for thousands of years. The feeling is like a child playing in the woods and looking up to discover and old abandoned tree house to play in. The excitement was very much personal but the expression was clearly written in everyone's eyes as they glimmered in awe.

From here, we followed a small trail upward and the desert around us opened as we topped a sand berm. Around us, we saw through the hazy air, the open desert to the North and South. To the East and West we saw our encampment and An Nasariyah. The trail led us to an odd "Z" shaped structure. This was the house of Abraham's father. The one in the Bible whom God told to lead his people out of the land of Ur. In this house, Abraham had been born and in turn, Abraham fathered Ishmael, who bore a son believed to be the founder of the Arabs who in turn through their culture and the teachings of Mohammad, a member of one of the founded tribes, created the religion Islam.

The house had been recreated by Saddam years ago. The floor, foundation and drainage of the house (yes-real drainage that works today!) were original. The walls had been rebuilt by Saddam and Daif told us it was believed to be an accurate representation of the building. There were many courtyards and endless rooms. Abraham's father sold idols and was a wealthy man. As I stood in a room, Chaplain White reminded us that it was possible that in this very room, God himself spoke to Abraham…Wow, what a feeling of honor to be able to be here. A rush of goose bumps tore across my flesh and the hair on the back of my next flexed as I gave thought to this place being so holy and rich in religious history.

The Pope himself has never been here. He had planned a trip in the past, which was cancelled when Saddam notified the Pontiff that he could not and would not ensure of his safety upon arriving. That I am given a privilege over the Pope of my own religion to visit a holy site is insurmountable. How incredible it is that I'm sure much worthier people than I have spent their life studying and researching this area, unable to set foot upon the ground and ruins that embodies their life's work, but a mere citizen-soldier as myself, ignorant to the surroundings and history of this place up until a few weeks ago, is given the duty to escort my boss through this holy ground that we protect.

We then walked back towards the Ziggurat and having been to the top, I opted to buy souvenirs sold by Daif's family. I purchased a small painting, a replica of the temple, a few Iraqi stamps, several Iraqi dinars with Saddam's face on each bill, and four coins, for my mother's collection. We were then approached by the roaming security forces who notified us that all tours had to be cancelled until further notice.

We promptly left but not until after tipping Daif a few dollars apiece. I found him next to our vehicles, his head held down pacing with his hands behind his back like a subordinate. I'm sure it was part of his routine and our donations paid him well to today's standards here. I was embarrassed that we had gun trucks next to this ancient structure. I was ashamed to have to offer him money. My entire billfold along with all of the funds available of my credit cards was truly not enough to repay him for the experience and knowledge he has gave me in those two short hours. That he must stand as a guest in his own backyard, hoping that we come to tour the magnificent land his family helped to rediscover sickened me. There are some things in life that are not fair and I hope one day he will be given all the rights and proper recognition that his family deserves. I took his hand and clasped it in both of mine looking him in his gentle eyes and I thanked him for letting us see "his" home and I thanked him for the tour and for all that, his family has done to preserve the history here.

I apologize for any misinformation in my story. I tried to relay the information as I remembered from the tour. My depiction of the Biblical history may be off and I have not had a chance to fully research its accuracy, but I hope that with the pictures attached, you can reap the benefits that I have of seeing this place, for it was all paid by each of your tax dollars.

Thank you again everyone for your support. Thanks to my mother and Joe for the box of twizzlers, jerky and goodies. Thank you to Linda Welch for finding my favorite lotion. To Mr. and Mrs. Norwood, I love the UT sandals and the peach iced tea is delicious. To Ashlea, the valentines card was wonderful. Thanks dad for the history lesson. To my sisters, brothers and nieces and nephews, I think of you daily. To Ryan, Jerm, Mason, Jason, Jeff, my friend Gabo, the Levy's, Mr. Frank, Dennis and Jane, Jenn Roque, Gin, Emily, Rita, Katie, Janet, Tania Cerrano, Katherine, Jane Katherine, my co-workers in Dyersburg and Jamaica, and all my friends abroad and with me here, thank you for your email and words of support from the bottom of my heart. It's not bad here, see all the fun we are having!

// 1Lt Glandorf

1LT Anthony Glandorf is Aide De Camp to the Commanding General, 194th Engineer Brigade (Theater Army). He is a resident of Dyersburg, Tennessee.