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November 17, 2015November 21, 2015 MatthewHoh

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MatthewHoh says:

April 8, 2017 at 11:04 pm

Oh my, how Tomi has arisen in fame since she was on OAN, and, I thought a very good journalist, and now how she has fallen. What happened with Tomi I’ve seen with several others, reasonable, honest, decent and intelligent people find a niche, find an audience, find an outlet or a base and they give up all they have for that demographic, that fandom, that shilling. In Tomi’s case I was on her show maybe a half dozen times and she certainly had her perspective and her opinion, but she was not a bigot and not someone I would have described as small minded. However, take her to CPAC, have someone tell her to make fun of Hilary Clinton and her pantsuits and voila…I can tell you the same story with others I have known, including Senator Tom Cotton…

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MatthewHoh says:

April 8, 2017 at 11:04 pm

Ok, maybe my words “very good journalist” were a bit much…;)

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Some Photos To Show How I Got Here (Nov. 2015)

It’s hard to forget such a face. And with remembering comes wondering.

Conducting post combat reconstruction operations in Samarra, October 2004. I had several hundred thousands of dollars in cash, plus several million dollars in contracts to award and restart. The army partnered with the Iraqi ministries to rebuild and renew services to the people. It was classic COIN and it didn’t work. This was over two years prior to General Petraeus and his COINdinistas arriving in Iraq to “win” the war. General Petraeus was in Iraq at this point, leading a failed effort to train Iraqi security forces, allowing open sectarian dominance in those security forces, and losing hundreds of thousands of weapons and millions of pounds of ammunition; all while penning op-eds for the Washington Post, informing Americans how well the war was going in Iraq and not so subtly encouraging them to vote Bush-Cheney in 04.

Drinking and eating at the Green Zone Cafe in Baghdad in September 2004, obviously before the suicide bomber hit it.

With First Sergeant Scott Miller in a makeshift company headquarters in Haditha, Iraq, Fall/Winter 2006. No better friend, no better counsel than 1stSgt Miller. Semper Fidelis Scott.

A visit from an American and British delegation from Kabul. Qalat, Zabul Province, Southeastern Afghanistan, Summer 2009.

Somewhere some poor bastard has it worse than you. A Marine burns shit in Haditha, Iraq, December 2006.

We believed that if we showed progress to the Iraqi people, that if we delivered services, got the government working again, made their communities nicer and modern, that the people, including tribal leaders, would forget the occupation, acquiesce to usurpation, allow traditional rivals to profit, forgive our atrocities and mistakes, and not respond to the fear brought by jihadists. We were fools.

Oil floods the Tigris River in January 2005. This became more common as the year went on.

With my friend Leslie Cockburn at her book launch in Fall 2013. Leslie’s novel, Baghdad Solitaire, is a vivid depiction of life in Iraq under occupation. So vivid I had to stop reading it for awhile.

Beautiful American women visited us from time to time to tell us they were proud of us.

Christmas morning, 2004. General Abdullah, the deputy governor, and Sheik Naji, the Tribal Council leader, brought us the tree. They are both dead.

Stockholm, March 2011. The last day of a 17 day speaking tour through Denmark, Finland, Holland and Sweden.

Heading through a checkpoint in 2004.

The view from a lavender farm, Maui, March 2015.

Day laborers at CPA in Baghdad, May 2004.

Welcome to Samarra. October, 2004.

Speaking to an American financed Afghan television program are three Americans and one Romanian, translated by an Afghan though. We are telling the Afghan people why it is important for them to vote. August 2009.

Day laborers I supervised one day on the grounds of the CPA compound. These men filled sandbags all day for 7 or 8 dollars a day (maybe a little more or less). I liked these men much more than I liked most of the CPA/Embassy staff. Interestingly, most of these men were Shia, however they spoke reverently of the Sunni uprising in Fallujah of April 04. Not many of us were talking to local people, or at least local people who were not on long term, well paying contracts.

With Tomi Lauren of the One America News Network, a network created because Fox News isn’t conservative enough…Go and speak to all.

I doubt that flag is still there.

With Contessa Brewer on MSNBC in December 2010.

A market we drove by. We rarely, if ever, stopped at such places, none of us wanted to kill their business by scaring away the customers. Also, it wasn’t very safe for us.

A young girl watches us walk by. If she is alive, she is now a young woman, having survived a war that has seen a million dead, millions wounded and maimed, millions displaced and nearly everyone mentally and emotionally traumatized. If she is still living in that house she is either under Islamic State oppression or subject to the abuses of Shia militias.

Men under my employ and pay work in Salah ad Din province in 2004. I ran a program with money from the Development Fund for Iraq, money that came from seized Iraqi assets, oil revenue and the UN oil for food program. The program was $50 million dollars and I received no written instructions as to its operation. When we needed more cash we would fly down to Baghdad and fill a duffel bag, or two, with cash from the vault. You can get $6 million dollars in a standard military duffel/sea bag. We would then fly back to Tikrit and put the money in two safes I kept in my bedroom. We would pay our contractors directly, while involving the local Iraqi government and ministries. Because we had no written instructions the program was fungible and we utilized the cash to employ public servants and conduct emergency post-battle reconstruction. I provided copies of my records to both contracting and financing officers in Kirkuk and Baghdad, as well as kept hard and digital copies in Tikrit I actually received special recognition for our work by the Special Inspector General for Iraq Reconstruction. It didn’t matter, we didn’t understand the politics of the war or the reality of being occupiers. And, of course, all the records were mysteriously lost as time went on. War is a racket.

Dave and Majeed. Baghdad, 2004. Majeed and his family were fortunate to have been accepted into the asylum program in the US. A civil engineer, he now drives a truck.

With my good friend and liberty mate Scott Macintyre at Camp Fuji, Japan the winter of 2000.

By all means, let’s make sure we have clean water to swim in. The Iraqis can wait. Also, why won’t the Iraqis just learn English already??? Green Zone, Baghdad, Spring 2004.

An aerial view of the Presidential palace in the Baghdad. It would serve as headquarters for the US Coalition Provisional Authority and then the US Embassy in Iraq.

An M1 Abrams crew in Salah Ad Din Province in October 2004. Note the green paint on the tank. A year and a half into the war and we still didn’t have equipment that was even the right color… During my second deployment, as a Marine, I came to greatly value the firepower of a tank.

Debating Peter Bergen and Max Boot on NPR’s Intelligence Squared alongside Nir Rosen in NYC in November 2010.

In Oslo, November 2014 with my very brave friends and heroes: John Johns, Colleen Rowley, Kirk Wiebe and Normon Solomon.

A view of Iraq from an open Humvee. This photo would have been from the Fall of 2004. A year and a half after the invasion we were still operating in vehicles open and exposed to enemy gunfire, rockets and IEDs, while welding our own armor onto the vehicles for protection.

Doing local news in Raleigh, NC. Local news allows you to reach audiences you wouldn’t ordinarily reach.

A palace on FOB Danger. My home for nearly a year in 2004-5.

Iraqi boys wave for the cameras. Taken over a decade ago these boys are young men now. If they have survived, if they are not refugees…I wonder about them. These were Sunni boys. Do they fight for the Islamic State? Most assuredly I believe they do. Our simple and chauvanistic tales and narratives of Manichean sides of good and evil do not withstand such knowledge of the Islamic State’s fighters as joyful youths. These boys weren’t made evil by their people, their faith, their culture, but rather by over a decade of war, suffering, hate, desperation and fear.

Laborers employed under my public works program. Monthly I would disperse tens or hundreds of thousands of dollars to Iraqi communities in Salah ad Din Province to maintain public services. At its peak I had 3,000 employees. Sure, plenty of it got stolen, but the work did get done and it was done transparently and through the Iraqi ministries and local governments. The insurgency still blossomed bloodily.

Combat wasn’t the only danger in Iraq. Accidents accounted for many, many American and Iraqi lives. While this incident was nothing more than a gigantic pain in the ass, such rollovers and submersions could be deadly. Heavy vehicles would collapse the farm roads, rolling over into a water filled ditched. The vehicle would sink into the mud. Encased, unable to open the vehicle doors and hatches, the crew would slowly drown to death. The other members of the patrol would be unable to dig out the vehicle and would have to wait helplessly for a recovery team while their mates died.

Afghan war widows cleaning raisins. These were the only women allowed to work in the province. Summer 2009.

Bryan and I with our largest single pay day. $3.3 million dollars. I was 31 years old, a Department of Defense civilian employee and a captain in the US Marine Corps Inactive Reserve.

Working for six dollars a day these young men made us look very good to the staff of the US embassy and to the politicians in Washington, DC. Progress was being made, we can attest to it because we are spending money…

One of the many palaces and villas built by the Baath Party in Tikrit, Iraq.

One of my meetings with local Afghans. Sometimes you would get someone representing the Taliban. Their message: we are tired of fighting, but we are not going to surrender. Surrender of course being the only thing I was authorized to communicate to them. Zabul Province, Afghanistan, September 2009.

Orange soda and snacks.

Kurdistan. History matters.

Staff Sergeant Lange briefs his Marines before a patrol to find IEDs on a cold winter day in Haditha, Iraq. I love everyone of those kids. 2006

Sadr City in the spring of 2004. Well over a year after our occupation had begun this was the reality of the streets of Baghdad. A reality very distant from the conversations at the Embassy and in Washington.

My favorite statue in Washington DC. Think big thoughts but remember it all may be absurd.

A market in Sadr City in either 2004 or 2005.

Speaking with a local municipality engineer during post combat operations in either Samarra or Bayji, Fall 2004. I have no excuse for the sideburns. It was a tough time for us all…

A Marine gets ready for patrol. Anbar Province, Winter 2007.

We drive past a lone Iraqi policeman at his checkpoint. When an Iraqi police man or soldier was posted in the middle of the road, by themselves, we would refer to those positions as suicide posts. Here the Iraqi policeman is not wearing a mask or baclava indicating the area was somewhat controlled and sympathetic to Iraqi government and coalition forces.

Boys and girls perform for Paul Bremer, CPA staff and Iraqi guests at the transitioning of the Ministry of Youth and Sport to Iraqi control. This was over eleven years ago. What happened to these children? What have they become if they have survived?

In Kunar Province in northeastern Afghanistan a US army captain explains the area to me. Spring 2009. At this point, the US Army was spending $100 million on construction and development projects in this part of the country (the four provinces of Nangahar, Nuristan, Kunar and Laghman, known collectively as N2KL), while USAID was spending an additional $100 million. There was nearly zero coordination between the the two organizations, although representatives on the ground did try and work through issues on a personal level. However, at regional command, Jalalabad, where there was no USAID presence, national command, Kabul, and strategic command, Washington, DC, there was no cooperation between these two organizations that were spending hundreds of millions of taxpayers dollars in this region and billions nationally. The lack of results was to be expected, not just in achieving success on the project level, but success in terms of winning the war. By the way, the fact that I am wearing a blazer, khaki pants and drinking a Sprite, while she has two weapons, is not lost on me.

Paul Bremer transitions the Iraqi Ministry of Youth and Sport to Iraqi control in June 2004. The various ministries had been divvied up to various Iraqi political groups. In this case, the Supreme Council for Islamic Revolution in Iraq (SCIRI) whose militia, the Badr Corps, fought against many of my friends. With Bremer’s transfer of the ministry went nearly $20 million in cash, directly to SCIRI. $20 million bought a lot of AKs, RPGs and explosives in the summer of 2004…

My cat. My pets have allowed me to renew relationships of trust as well as maintain a connection to the present. Two things that PTSD takes away from you.

With my friend, General Abdullah. He wouldn’t wear the glasses because he didn’t want his enemies to see him in them. His enemies executed him in April 2011.

A co-worker attracts attention while supervising day laborers on the CPA grounds. Spring 2004. Green Zone, Baghdad. Our women got lots of attention from local men not used to form flattering clothing.

My Marines train to go to Iraq. 29 Palms, CA, summer 2006. We had a lot of trouble getting enough ammunition to train, among other problems, as we prepared to deploy. Officers senior to me lied about our shortages and it took the personal intervention of the 4th Marine Division Commanding General for us to get the ammunition, equipment and facilities to be properly trained for Iraq. Semper Fi and fuck you 4th CEB.

My good friend Shea. Race car driver, blues guitarist and Quaker. Our friendship began the same time as my first attempt at sobriety.

War Resisters League. Photo from a Vice News interview I did while in London in November 2014.

In Norway.

The Tim Hortons at Kandahar Air Base in southern Afghanistan. This was not your grandfather’s or your father’s war. May 2009

Yes.

Becoming a war tax resister.

My pills and my dog’s pills. We are quite the pair.

Near daily view in 2004 and 2005 as we leave the FOB.

We couldn’t get bulletproof glass for our guard towers, equipment to repair our jammers to protect us from IEDs, or even cold weather gear that would not catch fire if our vehicles were hit, but we sure had a lot of candy! Charlie Company, 4th Combat Engineer Battalion, Regimental Combat Team 7, Anbar Province, 2006.

Two Iraqi women walk along the Euphrates River in Anbar Province in 2006 or 2007. For most of our time in Anbar this was as close as many civilians would come to us.

Che lives! On the border with Pakistan in southeastern Afghanistan a vendor sells Che Guervara stickers. I still have one. Summer 2009.

My route clearance team. Anbar Province, Iraq, 2007. Their job was to drive the roads looking for IEDs. The two burst bombs on the side of the Buffalo indicate that the Buffalo was hit twice, I believe it was hit again after this photo. Other vehicles were hit far more often. I don’t believe any of these Marines were screened for traumatic brain injuries upon our return to the US even though some of them were in at least 7 or 8 IED strikes on their vehicles. I believe I personally was in about 10 convoys and patrols that were hit with IEDs, although, somehow, my vehicle was never hit, just those in front and behind me. Whether that was due to Fortune or dumb luck I don’t know. Not to be outdone, the other Marines in my company searched for IEDs and weapons caches with handheld mine detectors on foot. All of us, on multiple occasions, would dismount our vehicles and walk on foot in front of the vehicles looking for mines and IEDs, at night we would do it with flashlights.

Christmas dinner in Haditha, Iraq, 2006. A KBR worker entertains as Santa Claus.

My friend Bryan with the Golden Dome mosque of Samarra behind him. Al-Qaeda would destroy the mosque, an important Shia pilgrimage and heritage site, in February 2006.

Off they go. They will arrive in a village with their guns and maybe some money, and then they will leave. They will do this for an entire deployment. Lagham Province, Afghanistan, 2009

Speaking at the Carr Center at Harvard University in November 2010. Yeah, that fish I caught was that big…

Iraqi kids giving us thumbs up and hoping for candy as we drive to Baquba. I’m not sure if these were Sunni or Shia children, but regardless, I can’t imagine they would be so friendly today.

Marrying Bryce and Casey. May 2011.

From 2004 in Iraq. By the time I left Iraq, for the last time, in the spring of 2007 such destroyed and damaged buildings were common.

A medevac following a successful IED attack against American forces in between Tikrit and Kirkuk, 2005.

Watching the oil on the ancient Tigris River drift by in January 2005.

Dogs in Russia. The basic elements of life, including compassion and suffering, are not restricted by geographical borders or species.

Nothing is so strong as gentleness, nothing so gentle as real strength. -Saint Francis de Sales

As a guest at a Bahai summer retreat in FL in July 2015. Although I am an atheist 6 1/2 days of the week it doesn’t mean I stop exploring, stop questioning, stop seeking and stop trying to understand. Isn’t that photo dramatic? ;)

Ashore in Thailand in 2001.That’s Thailand’s aircraft carrier behind me. I’d bet dollars to donuts she still hasn’t put out for operations yet. But, hey, Thai admirals get to say they have an aircraft carrier…

Throughout the wars it was forbidden to have an American flag on our vehicles. The reason: because it would make the local people feel occupied. As if that heavy machine gun wasn’t enough to make them feel occupied…

With Jess Radack, Tom Drake and Peter van Buren at the National Press Club in Washington, DC. If you don’t know who these folks are, how brave they are and how they have taken on the worst in our government, please google them.

With Andy, one of my platoon commanders. Haditha, Iraq, December 2006.

At the Sulimania Palace Hotel in Kurdistan, January 2005 with my Kurdish engineer and friend Karzan. The Palace Hotel in Kurdistan was a mainstay for Westerners and foreigners in Sulimania. Able to drink beer in the hotel restaurant, use wi-fi and watch Seinfeld (subtitled in Kurdish) the dissonance in the realities of Iraq could be overwhelming. The Palace was the scene of a modern Great Game, with Americans, Brits, Russians, Turks, Chinese, Koreans and others filling the rooms. Many of them were oil and gas representatives, others were intelligence officers, and some were both.

Teaching soldiers and civilians how we were doing governance and reconstruction operations in 1st Infantry Division’s AO in 2004. We were a model of success for the rest of Iraq, but the success was only on paper. Sure we built and repaired a lot, some of it competently (almost always when we worked through the Iraqi ministry and not Western contractors), but as we spent millions of dollars per week, worked to ensure elections would occur and to create an Iraqi government, the insurgency gained in strength every week.

Downtown Qalat. A provincial capital, Qalat set on the main highway between Afghanistan’s two major highways. 14 years after the war began that highway is still not controlled by Afghan government forces. August 2009

A Bradley stands guard at one of our gates. I once saw an insurgent RPG team attack a Bradley at a checkpoint in daylight. The Bradely’s coaxial machine gun killed them very quickly. I watched it happen with a cup of coffee in my hand.

Love and joy. Lost through war and PTSD, renewed through dogs.

My girl Sky. Please consider helping veterans by donating to any of the many organizations that pair veterans with rescued dogs.

Hello from Oslo. November 2014. Working with fellow activists, many of them courageous and lawbreaking whistleblowers, from four other countries.

Dinner in Qalat with the Ambassador. Summer 2009.

I wrote a short post on this photo earlier this year: https://matthewhoh.com/2015/02/27/smoke-from-bayji/

My first sergeant and I inspect a pipeline we ruptured in Barwahna, Iraq in November 2006. I still have that uniform with the oil stains.

Memorial Day party at CPA headquarters, Baghdad, Iraq, May 2004. I had been in Iraq for a few weeks at this point. While Baghdad was hit daily with car bombs we drank Amstel Light.

Afghan elders await a session with Americans and Afghans from Kabul to begin in the summer of 2009. Zabul Province, Afghanistan.

Tora Bora seen from Jalalabad Airfield in Spring 2005, Northeastern Afghanistan. These were the mountains that bin Laden and his few remaining allies escaped to in 2001. From here he escaped into Pakistan. When I took this photo in 2009 I thought what would have happened if we had got bin Laden in 2001. If we had captured or killed him in those mountains. How different would history be, how different our lives, how many lives would not be devolving in the ground, how many dreams and promises to love ones would have been kept? Over four years after killing bin Laden our wars continue. The same would have occurred in 2001. We were a nation bent on war and once entered into war, by petty men and women devoid of worldly, historical, cultural and religious knowledge, but conditioned to obey the campaign dollars and the public opinion polls., We always surrender our options and free will to the gods of war. The Romans and the Greeks named forces outside of human control as gods. Chief among the gods were Mars (Rome) and Ares (Greece). Such a god still exists as war, a force beyond human manipulation, control or understanding. Ask the dead in Paris, Beirut, the Sinai, Raqaa, Baghdad and Kabul if they disagree.

Speaking with my operations chief, Master Sergeant Kent Samuels, the best Marine I ever served with, on a clear and beautiful December day in Iraq. Two of my Marines would be severely wounded just hours after this photo.

On the border of Afghanistan and Pakistan in the summer of 2009. Honestly, I might even have been in Pakistan.

With my good friend Jared. Jared’s sharing of his experiences going through some tough times was of unbelievable help to me as I began my recovery. Thank you Jared. Peace brother.

My friend Sean delivers the flag to his father at Sean’s brother’s funeral.

At the infamous Green Zone Disco. It was as I would imagine a disco would have been like at a Howard Johnson’s in the late 1970s. Spring 2004.

Ashore in Indonesia less than 20 kilometers from the equator in 2001.

Two of my NCOs grill for their Marines in between missions and patrols. I was blessed, company wide, with tough, smart and dependable corporals and sergeants. They kept their Marines alive. Rahwah, Anbar Province, Iraq, 2006/7

My movement from Baghdad to Tikrit in June 2004.

My favorite dog we worked with in Anbar Province in 2006 and 2007. This was Cisco. He was very sweet and would climb in your lap. He was trained for both bomb detection and attack and was on at least his third deployment. Like many of our war dogs he suffered from PTSD. His teeth had been replaced with titanium. When a dog sinks into an arm or leg they will bite into the bone and not release. Regular teeth may break, titanium won’t. To know what we have done to these creatures in pursuit of our wars is to know what war is.

Young boys and girls in a school in Salah ad Din province in Iraq in 2004 or 2005. Sunni kids. How many are fighting for the Islamic State now?

Everyone of us behaved like a tourist at some point. I always thought of this scene: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zMFLZuAen0k

Speaking at a Washington, DC showing of Jeremy Scahill’s Dirty Wars in May 2013.

As the year went on we needed to add more blast protection to our house. Tikrit, Iraq, 2005

Paying villagers in Zabul Province, Afghanistan for the death of villagers by our Apache helicopters. August 2009. I’m standing, in the blue shirt.

First Lieutenant Hoh with North Korea behind him in the winter of 2001.

In a new apartment, I conduct a Skype interview with BBC from my bedroom. Don’t let anyone tell you being an anti-war agitator is a path to financial prosperity ;) October 2013

Young men, and some young women, saw this view every day for a year. Every day. Sometimes their mission would be broken up by the vehicle in front or behind getting blown up. Sometimes it was their vehicle. Other times they would take small arms or maybe RPG fire, and, of course, kids would throw rocks at them. They didn’t speak the local language, watched as local people fled the streets when they approached, didn’t know the local history, believed Iraq was involved in 9/11, received letters and emails telling them their girlfriends and wives were leaving them, used toilets that overflowed, slept in freezing AC to keep away the mosquitos and the disease the bugs carried, and ate shitty food, but they had each other.

An example of a self-armored vehicle that we rode in until late in 2004. This wasn’t a vehicle I ever rode in, but it was similar to one I often rode in in Salah ad Din Province. Baghdad, Spring or Summer 2004.

Afghan villagers endure our speeches and await our paying a family for killing their sons.

Atop the Al Malawiya Shrine in Samarra. April 2005.

It reads, in English letters over the Arabic, of course: “The United States Army in partnership with the Iraqi people for a better future.” I don’t believe that sign is still standing…

A lone Iraqi soldier stands guard as we drive by. I wonder if he is alive. 2004 or 2005, Tikrit, Iraq.

Attending the weekly Salah ad Din Provincial Council meeting in 2004 or 2005. The provincial council chairman (seated beneath the flag) would be killed not very long after I left Iraq. The man I am talking to is my friend, Khaled, the provincial head of construction, I have no idea if he is alive. In my suit pants pocket would have been my .32 Llama pistol.

Raleigh NC Town Hall w/ 3 US congressional reps and 2 state reps. Betsy Crites of NC Peace Action on the right. February 2012. I was newly sober.

I see this and I wait for King Kong to come out of the mists. But he’s a myth. Don’t let myths define you, don’t let outdated and irrelevant stories propel you, take your life and be your own reality.

Talking to peace people in NC.

Ashore in Jakarta with Indonesian Marines in 2001.

Visiting Julian Assange in London in November 2014.

With Karzan at a meeting of generals and governors in Sulimania, Kurdistan, Iraq, April 2005. Note the photo of Talabani and the Kurdish flag.

One of the first times I saw myself on television. October 2009.

What it looks like when some foreign ambassadors and generals visit your city. October 2004

One of my Huskies. You placed a Marine inside of this vehicle and he drove along the road with metal detectors under the vehicle. Its modular design allowed it to be blown to pieces without the Marine suffering visible wounds, usually. Of course, a minor design flaw was that the detector was behind the front wheels. My Marines drove these vehicles daily looking for bombs in and on the side of the roads. They never complained.

A cold and frozen day in NC in 2013. I look at this now and I see old sentiments about country, people and values frozen and dead in my own heart. Still there, still resident, but frozen and dead.

Reconstruction and governance team with PSD team leaders. Early 2005. Tikrit, Iraq.

Speaking as an alum at Tufts University, April 2011.

Our deck in Tikrit. We could eat from the date palms. Fortunately you could usually hear the outgoing fire from insurgent mortars before the rounds reached the base giving us enough time to get back inside. I will say watching incoming mortar rounds fall short and detonate on the Tigris was a bit thrilling.

Sunni boys come running as we drive past. They always came running. It would scare the hell out of you because we were always capable of being attacked or hitting an IED. My stomach sinks now as my body and mind remember kids like this running towards us and being so afraid, so afraid, they would be killed.

The banner from my appearance with Jonathan Landay on one of Bill Moyers’ last shows. September 2014

Two of my best friends to this day. Suzanne and Ryan. FOB Danger, Tikirt, Iraq, December 2004.

That’s right.

My Kurdish colleague’s family would host us. Here is a spread Karzan’s mom and sister made for me and my security team.

With Amos Lee, Raleigh, NC.

Parliament, Westminster and MI5 from RT’s London studio. November 2014.

Winning hearts and minds in Bali as a Marine on liberty.

Speaking at a local Peace Action Dinner in 2013. Sober for a year I approached speaking selectively and with hesitation. At this point I was working for $7.35 at the YMCA, but I was alive.

Malaysia in 2001 with Frank, Bez and some Malaysian paratrooper friends. We got to go places that rich people pay thousands and thousands of dollars to visit.

An early appearance on CNN in November 2009. Prior to this my last appearance in the American press was in the Hunterdon County Democrat in 1991 for high school track.

Yep. This is real. From the Green Zone in 2004.

My latest tattoo. From the Rumi poem Bewilderment, in Farsi, it reads: “I have tried prudent planning long enough. From now on I’ll be mad.”

Sitting alongside NSA whistleblower Tom Drake at the National Press Club in Washington, DC in 2013.

Visiting Samarra to inspect post-combat reconstruction efforts, either October or November 2004. Note the camera in my left hand. Myself, US Army and Iraqi engineers would diligently photograph our work to document progress, account for expenditures, and illustrate/illuminate a victory narrative for the American command in Baghdad and politicians in Washington, DC. Of course, pictures will not explain the fear, anger and desperation of a people that feel usurped, occupied, displaced and living under existential threat from foreigners, religious extremists, and rivals within their own society, such as the Shia dominated government.

Boys watch a grader at work in a town in Salah ad Din Province, Iraq. These boys are all fighting age now.

My friend Erica running the Marine Corps Marathon in 2008 with the name of my radio operator on her back.

Getting ready to fly out. I was involved in a deadly helicopter crash in 2006, after that, whenever I flew, I was always one of the last to board and first to get off. Zabul Province, Afghanistan, Summer 2009.

One of my D9 armored bull dozers at work in Iraq in 2006 or 2007. We used these to berm in cities and destroy homes. Please see: https://matthewhoh.com/2016/03/16/remembering-rachel-corrie-letters-from-palestine/

Ladies and gentlemen, Consumerism has arrived in Baghdad. Please visit the al-Rasheed to shop and get the first tastes of a gloriously provisioned Iraq.

Viva La Papa.

Bob Herbert’s column of July 9, 2009 had a very deep effect on me when I read it in Zabul Province, Afghanistan that summer. It was an honor to be included in his book.

Due to my position, which really was seniority by default, because no one else showed up, I had my own bedroom with working bath. Here’s my toilet and bidet. I had a hot shower for half the year which was an unbelievable luxury compared to nearly everyone else in the country, soldier, insurgent or civilian (our hot water tank was located outside). Tikrit, Iraq, 2004/5

Afghan soldiers prepare to be inspected by the governor of Zabul Province. None of these soldiers were from the province, very few spoke Pashto and even less were Pashtun. August 2009

Tacos and the beach. Do things like this. Live, try and live, it’s all you can do. You know too many who can’t even do that anymore.

John Fields one of my PSD team leaders outside Samarra, April 2005. A Brit and a very, very good man.

Find it.

Speaking at the venerable Cleveland Club in the summer of 2011. I’m sweating out last night’s booze, beginning to feel needy for alcohol, and calculating how soon I can be at the airport in order to maximize time in the bar.

Destruction was all around us, including the buildings you lived next to. But, I guess, you become numb or you explain it away. This building had been hit by cruise missiles and airstrikes in 2003.

They will be here long after we leave. Learn from them.

My favorite interview. From the Spanish newspaper La Pais. In it the correspondent refers to me as burly and affable. We did the interview in one of my local bars, I’m pretty sure the correspondent kindly substituted burly and affable for fat and drunk.

Young Iraqi men. How long did those smiles last after 2004?

At the announcement of the Afghanistan Study Group in September 2010 in Washington, DC.

With Jesse Ventura on his television show in early 2015. I have appeared on a couple of occasions with Governor Ventura and each time I get many, many more views and comments than I do from traditional cable news media.

With Bradley Walker at the Marine Corps Marathon in 2008. Not pictured are Brad’s two artificial legs. Brad lost his legs when the vehicle he was in hit an IED in December 2006. My vehicle had driven over that IED just seconds before Brad’s did.

Nothing seems like it can be so simple, so pure, so honest or so beautiful after war. All the stories, tales and narratives don’t make sense anymore.

Pay day in Tikrit. We worked in cash. Things did get built and the money bought influence, but building things does not bring justice and influence is not loyalty. The insurgency got stronger. Note the black plastic bag, most of our contractors would walk out the gate of FOB Danger into Tikrit, with tens or hundreds of thousands of dollars in those black plastic bags, nearly the same time, every week. I never heard once of one of them getting robbed…

My good friend’s brother’s grave in Arlington.

RIP Danny.

How I traveled. An armored Land Crusier, my cup of coffee and my trusty AK-47. I’d wear body armor, and if wearing a suit, would put my jacket over the body armor. I’d rarely wear a helmet and I would often have a small pistol in my front right pants pocket with an extra magazine in my left pocket. Sometimes, but not always, I’d have a bag of cash. My program was $50 million dollars. The most I ever had in my possession at one time was $26 million which I kept in my bedroom in two safes.

One of my tattoos. Originally the design was something my friend and engineer in Iraq, Ammar, and I came up with. Based on the idea, in 2004, that we were rebuilding the country. For my tattoo, a decade later, I replaced one of the shovels with an ax and added a drop of blood. It’s more honest that way.

Through the end of 2004 until I left Tikrit at the end of May 2005, smoke clouds from the oil fires of Bayji were near daily.

While the rest of Iraq burned we had a pretty excellent pool party at CPA headquarters in Baghdad. Memorial Day, 2004.

With one of my PSD teams above Sulimania, Kurdistan, Iraq.

The hardest thing of war: trying to be moral in the immoral world of war.

A simple plaque to remember the presence of United States Marines in Australia at the War Shrine in Melbourne, Australia.

Iraqi police move past us in October 2004. Riding 7 or 8 to an unarmored pick up truck these men were easily killed by insurgents. By 2005 the insurgents had begun placing canisters of fuel on the IEDs to create a fire ball to burn those hit in open vehicles and to scare those in the vicinity.

When your mom has a crush on Chris Coumo you give him a hug and get a photo. Summer 2014

As a member of the Secretary of the Navy’s office in the summer of 2003.

As if out of central casting, an Afghan village elder hears our latest take on a war he has lived through since the 1970s. Zabul Province, August 2009

The Golden Dome Mosque in Samarra. Revered in Shia society, al Qaeda would destroy its beautiful dome in February 2006. The civil war between Iraqis had begun well before al-Qaeda’s attack, so much that we began recording and reporting to Baghdad Iraqi civilian deaths in early 2005. That we didn’t do so for nearly two years into our war there tells a lot about us. In October 2004, Iraqi and American special operations troops stormed the mosque to root out insurgents. In doing so they destroyed the front door. We, the US, paid $100,000 to purchase a replacement. War is racket folks…

As CPA transitioned to the US Embassy in the spring of 2004 I went north from Baghdad to Tikrit, Saddam Hussein’s home city. Incoming (civilian) and outgoing (mostly military) members of the reconstruction and governance team in Salah ad Din province.

Bradleys and a concrete box to hide in from mortar and rocket fire near the ancient Malawiya temple in Samara.

Speaking with Chris Hayes on MSNBC the night the US launched strikes agains the Islamic State in 2014. A year later the Islamic State is only larger, stronger, and has a global presence throughout the Muslim world. In the past two weeks they have successfully inspired the mass bombings in Beirut, attacks in Paris and the downing of a Russian airliner.

My friend Bryan and a translator confer with a local Iraqi as we conduct post-combat reconstruction efforts in Samarra, a city, 11 years later, that is still a bloody battleground. The man in the suit is dead. The man next to him was once kidnapped and threatened with beheading. Bryan and I had decided to use money we controlled to ransom him, however he was released. Whether he was actually kidnapped is something I could never completely determine, such were the alliances and personalities that existed in the midst of guerrilla and civil war, corruption, and collapse. The boy with the soccer ball…he would be in his twenties now, is he alive, a refugee, an amputee? PTSD, nightmare, depression, chronic health problems most definitely. Does he fight for the Islamic State now out of necessity, survival, hatred, faith…I don’t know, but I would guess, yes, it is very possible he does.

With Daniel Ellsberg in LA. November 2009.

A joint Iraqi-US reconstruction team meeting. Anyone who tells you we weren’t doing counter-insurgency prior to General Petraeus’ assumption of command in Iraq in 2007 simply doesn’t know what they are talking about. Here we were utilizing millions and millions of dollars in American resources and money in collaboration with Iraq institutions, norms and personnel. Yet, every week, the insurgency grew stronger. A well financed and charitable occupation is still an occupation.

The Horsegate, Forward Operating Base Danger, Tikrit, Iraq. 2004/5 Supposedly Saddam’s carriage, pulled by the most beauteous white horses would enter and leave through here. I taught my friend Mazin how to drive in that parking lot.

With my friend, hero and inspiration, Shea Brown at the 2013 Ridenhour Awards.

Steel from the World Trade Center at my father’s old church, the Church of the Good Shepard in Inman, Manhattan, January 2013.

Camp Fuji, Japan, Winter 2001. Within the year al-Qaeda would let the US know the world had changed.

Afghan men greet us as we approach a school. Zabul Province, Afghanistan.

I have a fantasy, I have always had it, of walking cross country. With PTSD it becomes a fantasy of escape, and, every now and again, I contemplate it. But I know it is just a means for me to try to run, to try to avoid and that, at some point, it would have to end. When does it end?

NYU Public Theater December 2010 with Alec Baldwin and fellow veterans.

Speaking at the dedication of the Expose Facts’ Daniel Ellsberg billboard outside the US State Department in May 2014.

Second Lieutenant Hoh, 1998.

These parakeets could be bought in the bazaar in the Green Zone, not more than a couple of blocks from the US Embassy. When suicide bombers hit the bazaar, one of them hit this store. I’ve always worried about what happened to these birds.

My security team at an outdoor restaurant in Sulimania, Kurdistan. Sit outside, smoke cigs, talk to people and be nice. Heading to Kurdistan, with a stop first in Kirkuk, every six weeks was like R&R.

Members of the Ministry of Youth and Sport in Baghdad May 2004. Nada was one of our Iraqi employees. As I understand she is safe in the United States. Worrying what became of her haunted me for years. The gentleman to my right, Dave, was an executive with Nike who volunteered his time from home and family to try and do something good in Iraq. The gentleman to Nada’s left, Lynn, was an Army chaplain. A kinder, wiser and more gentle man I’m not sure I ever knew. RIP Lynn.

The majority of Marines and Sailors I led waiting for the flight to take us home at Al Asad Airbase, Anbar Province, Iraq. About 20 of my Marines and Sailors had to remain in Anbar for a few extra weeks. That still bothers me. April 2007.

Letting go is not forgetting.

Our single largest one time payout was $1.16 million in October, 2004. Our man calmly put it his briefcase and walked out into Tikrit.

My friend. I don’t know if he is alive or dead. He liked my ties and kept his pistol in that man-purse.

Courage can be contagious.

Saint Patrick’s Day 2010. I would wake up on my floor the next day, clean my self up and go and brief the Chairman of the House Armed Services Committee, Ike Skelton. After briefing him, Chairman Skelton told me I was the first person to have ever come into his office and tell him things weren’t going well in Afghanistan. This was 2010.

Speaking to members of Congress in July 2010. Bob Pape of the University of Chicago is beside me.

Meeting with my Iraqi engineer staff in September of 2004. I know at least three of them have been killed and one maimed since I left. If they are still in Salah ad Din, they live in the battleground of the Sunni Islamic State and the Shia government/militias.

A young girl in Qalat, Zabul Province Afghanistan. At her age she has only a few years remaining of being outside, not covered, and not escorted by a male relative. When she reaches puberty she will be shut away with the remainder of the female members of her family until she is married off to start a family of her own. If she is lucky she will be a first wife.

New Years Day, 2005, Tikirt, Iraq. With Suzanne, State Department, and Gail, USAID. Two of my best friends. Behind the tree is a $10,000 copy machine that worked for about a week before the dust jammed it. It was impossible to fix without a technician and Ricoh wouldn’t send one to Iraq, I called.

The 1st Infantry Division Headquarters in Tikrit, Iraq. Named FOB Danger, we were housed in an extremely large compound built by the Baath Party in Tikrit, Iraq. With dozens of palaces and villas, manmade lakes and waterfalls, and a zoo, it was an absurdist realization of a fever dream combining Disneyworld, Las Vegas, and the sets of Elizabeth Taylor’s Cleopatra. The division headquarters, pictured here, was located on the cliff overlooking the Tirgis River where, according to legend, the great Muslim general Salahaddin was born. By the time I left we had a trailer selling Subway sandwiches, a coffee shop where Bangladeshi workers would make you a cappuccino and Zumba classes.

My friend Dave stands next to one of the structurally decapitated heads of Saddam Hussein. Baghdad, Spring 2004.

Speaking in defense of Bowe Bergdahl’s family on CNN, 2014.

Thanksgiving aboard FOB Danger, November 2004.

Marrying my friends Dan and Marsha May 2013 in Maryland. Dan, a Naval officer, would shortly deploy. I can’t say I am prouder of anything more than the Marines I led in Iraq, but in terms of the best things I have done in my life, marrying my friends Dan and Marsha, and Bryce and Casey, are it.

With the incomparable Ray McGovern and two very bad ass ladies from Code Pink, Asheville, NC, July 2014.

A view of the pool at CPA Headquarters/American embassy. Spring or Summer 2004.

Afghan men and soldiers dance at an Afghan Independence Day celebration. The holiday commemorated defeating the British (multiple times) and the Soviets. My British colleagues were a bit unnerved by some of the referencing to killing Brits in their speeches and songs. Note the photo of Ahmed Shah Massoud in the top left corner of the photo. The ANA truly stood for the Army of the Northern Alliance.

Greeting Ambassador Karl Eikenberry alongside the Commander of 3rd Brigade, 1st Infantry Division. At this point I was the acting political officer for four provinces in northeastern Afghanistan. Spring 2009.

The joy I felt when I took off this bracelet upon Bowe’s release was nothing compared to the revulsion at the base and petty politically motivated hatred of Americans towards Bowe and his family.

I can feel the heat, I can taste the dust, I can feel my shirt and my pants sticking to me from the sweat, I am cognizant of needing to keep drinking water and forcing myself to eat. I keep an eye on not getting ahead of my security and I have a body guard right near me. I search every Iraqi with my eyes and I wait for the sound of AK fire, the retort of an outgoing mortar, or the shock and blast of a suicide bomber. I’d rather die than lose my eyes or my balls, and I’d rather die than any of my friends around me. Sitting in Wake Forest, NC on November 19, 2015, those feelings are as genuine as they were over 11 years ago in Bayji, Iraq.

Speaking against torture outside the governor’s mansion in Raleigh in 2014. North Carolina is home to an airfield utilized in the US government’s rendition and torture program. While clearly illegal, under existing local, state and federal laws, no elected or appointed official has had the courage, or political need, to enforce the law.

Gus. RIP my friend.

Just some guns my friends had in Baghdad…2004.

Needless to say I root for the apes in the Planet of the Apes movies…

Iraqi men play soccer on a pitch in Sadr City, Baghdad, May 2004.

Share this please.

I’m on the left heading to inspect one of the berms we had built outside of Haqlaniyah, Anbar Province, Iraq, December 2006. As part of a larger campaign, Marines, Soldiers and Sailors, with Iraqi police and army units, led by Sunnis, and blessed off by local tribal leaders, began to clear the cities of the Euphrates River Valley leading to Ramadi. We constructed large berms around the cities, allowing only one way in and out. Marines and Iraqi soldiers went house to house and cleared the city. Local people gave up the al-Qaeda cells that were operating in their cities. They did that, not because they liked us, but because we had finally talked to and worked with their local leaders and limited the interference from the Shia government in Baghdad. We replaced the Shia leaders of Iraqi soldiers and police with Sunnis and Anbaris. With no need for al-Qaeda in Iraq (AQI) the Sunnis gave them up. What was fascinating was that the AQI cells were quite small. Violence dropped dramatically. It became so quiet it was scary. In the end it was politics that had them fighting us, simple, easy to understand grievances that our hubris, ignorance and arrogance would not previously let us consider.

My half of my trailer in Baghdad. 2004/5.

With Code Pink and Ray McGovern speaking against the US and NATO intervention in Libya. Spring 2011.

Your heart might be black and dead, that’s why you need to take something into your heart to help it heal. These two do it for me.

For a long time I lost my pride in what I did as a Marine, of how my Marines behaved and performed. Through therapy I have come to put my emotions, memories and feeling in perspective, to understand what we did and how we acted, how we tried to be as moral as possible in an immoral position. I have the greatest respect and fondest memories of the majority of Marines I served with, particularly those I led. Our nation’s sins should not be ours to bear alone in our own mindful hate, anger, despair and sorrow.

In northern Iraq, in Sulamania, a Kurdish city and province, we could drop our body armor and rifles, and walk the streets. Among the Kurds we were seen as liberators.

Hugh Elsea’s wedding, Southwest Virginia near Lyhchburg, October 2012. This was the first event I ever attended as a sober person. Thankfully it was a dry wedding.

Prior to the Marines’ assault on Fallujah in November 2004, we conducted a campaign against Samarra in October. A shaping operation, the intent was to disrupt insurgent networks prior to the battle in Fallujah, while denying sanctuary to insurgents who would attempt to escape Fallujah. Here a column of fuel tankers awaits entry into Samarra. We did a massive Phase IV post combat reconstruction effort in Samarra intended to connect the local people to their government and convince to support us and not the insurgents. It didn’t work.

One of my best friends in Okinawa with an MRE hot dog. 2000.

Live in the present. It may not be Maui at Christmas, but find yourself in the present wherever you are. You owe that to those who can no longer do so themselves.

Why every American wanted to visit Kurdistan.

One of my 7-ton trucks post IED strike. My three Marines walked away from this, but were never tested for traumatic brain injury upon returning home to the US. Upon getting home we did receive a one hour PTSD briefing from a kind person who had never been to war. We didn’t give it much mind. 2007

Mazin. Spring 2005. I still have the prayer beads you gave me my friend.

Two brothers killed by American bombs in Syria in 2014. It’s quite rare to see such testimony of our wars abroad in American media, but overseas, on networks not headquartered in New York City, viewers have a full appreciation for what the US is doing.

Downtown Hit, Iraq. One of the oldest cities it was a very, very tough place for the Marines and Soldiers stationed here. In every window there could be a sniper, every piece of trash could be an IED, and every person might be a suicide bomber. I have the greatest respect for our young men who lived here, for months on end, enduring that insanity. It is right to be angry at what we put them through.

A young Iraqi digs a ditch in Salah ad Din province in 2004 or 2005.

Our house staff in Tikrit, Iraq. Mostly Shia and Kurds, what happened to them, particularly the women, haunts me and is a root cause of my PTSD and moral injury.

Meticulously researched and documented. One of the first books I suggest to anyone who is looking to understand the wars we are in.

With Dylan Ratigan on MSNBC in December 2011 discussing the removal of the American forces from Iraq. My anger was at its peak. I remember struggling to maintain my composure as I asked Dylan who would be held responsible for the war, when we as a people would have the courage to face the wrongs, honor the dead and take on the villains. At this point breakdowns were occurring daily, my relationship was in pieces and the numbing narcosis of alcohol was the only thing keeping me alive.

A Marine hoists our colors over Um Qasr, Iraq the first day of the invasion in March 2003. I am seeing this from my desk at the Pentagon, upset I wasn’t taking part, afraid I was going to miss the war.

With Kevin Lucy and Ray McGovern in NYC in May 2015. Ray was career CIA, having served as George W. Bush’s personal briefer. He is my mentor. Kevin’s son Jeff was a Marine who killed himself upon returning home from Iraq. Kevin courageously and unselfishly shares his and his family’s story to strangers in order to help people heal.

Debating Nate Fick of Generation Kill fame on the CBS Evening News with Katie Couric in December 2009.

My first effort with my friend Danny Davis. We were rejected by about 15 newspapers before Defense News ran it. August 2010.

My home and office. FOB Danger, Tikrit, Iraq, 2004-5.

My friend Durga. Baghdad 2004. We became friends after I let him use my computer to email his family back in Nepal. Kindness has its rewards. Durga was the Nepalese guard company quarter master. I never suffered without whenever I was in Baghdad after that.

That’s the capitalist spirit Kurdistan! Sulamania, Iraq, 2005.

A statue of Salah ad Din was prominent on our base in Tikrit. Born in Tikrit in the 12th century, Salah ad Din would lead the Muslim reconquest of Jerusalem from the Crusaders in 1187. As modern day crusaders most of us aboard the base were ignorant of such history and blind to the symbolism of the great general to the Iraqi, Arab and Muslim people.

With my good friend Pete Dominick. Pete I hope you know how much your friendship means to me.

Testing suicide bomber detection devices on a very cold day in Massachusetts in January 2009. They didn’t work. That didn’t stop the vendors from complaining to Congress though.

You know, things are often right outside your door that you don’t take the time to notice.

Speaking with Ammar and Damar in Tikrit shortly before leaving Tirkit to head home to the US after a year in Iraq. Upon returning home I would work as a consultant for the State Department on Iraq policy. Within a few months of being at the State Department, I had volunteered for mobilization with the Marine Corps.

On my wall, and maybe, at some point, on my forearm.

Election day is approaching in Qalat, Zabul Province in August, 2009. The elections were masterfully corrupt and illegitimate. It was truly brilliant and beautiful election theft. Too bad so many young American boys bled out obscenely so far from home to make that happen.

My parents’ home in NC. As a 40 year old man I spent a year at their home, recovering and trying to get sober, completely broke and unable to work. I am lucky to have such a family, other guys aren’t. Without them I would have had to live in my car and I doubt I’d still be here today.

Sulamania in Kurdistan. Unlike the rest of Iraq is so, so many ways.

DVDs, all pirated, and some of them porn. As the car bombs were rocking Baghdad and Sunni and Shia uprisings were shaking nearly every city, in spring 2004 I heard CPA senior advisors at a meeting discuss the prevalence of pirated DVDs and the need to respect the interests of Jack Valenti and the motion picture industry. I’m serious. Jerry Bremer could have been Moses, Abe Lincoln and Gandhi rolled into one and he still would have been a failure in Baghdad because of those who populated the CPA.

My Marines assemble Bangalore torpedoes on Mount Fuji in Japan. Winter 2001.

When the ambassador shows up in your city you meet him at the landing zone with your corrupt governor, your non Pashto speaking army commander, and your KHAD (communist) trained intelligence chief.

Atop Mount Fuji, Japan, Summer 2000 with my first platoon sergeant, Gunny Brannon, a legend to everyone who knew him.

FOB Danger, Tikrit, Iraq. In the hill on the left of the photo, beneath the minaret, were millennia old living spaces and caves, including an ancient pre-Mohamdian church. On the right, across the bridge, was a zoo the Baath Party had run for the wealthy and the privileged. Twice, on our patio, at night, I saw the lynx that was once caged in that zoo. This was an odd place.

Speaking in Dallas in August 2011. I had promised myself this was to be my last speaking event, that I was going to leave the wars behind and start a new life. Staying with friends that night in Dallas I was unable to drink as I needed and I lay awake wracked with anxiety, anger and sorrow. The alcohol I traveled with I had finished, alone, in their guest room, the night before. The next day, on the flight home, I took advantage of a first class upgrade in order to drink the three hours back to DC. Arriving back home I met my parents and girlfriend for dinner. Strengthened by the alcohol I was confident and happy in my new life. It didn’t happen. The only thing I was successful in was leaving my work. Within months my relationship was over, breakdowns were daily and suicide was the next step. A therapist in DC saved my life.

Don’t ever say our occupation wasn’t classy….

At the Marine Corps Ball with my company staff after my second Iraq Deployment. Finer men I’ve never known.

Sam Winstead, who fought at Peleliu and Okinawa in World War II, speaks at the Swords to Plowshares Memorial Bell Tower during Veterans Day observations in Raleigh, NC, 2014. Each year Sam rides his bike to Washington DC to speak for peace.

I can go on for a very long time about Batman. A man challenged by his own society who destroys all around him in a quest for justice and vengeance, slaughtering his soul in a Sisyphean task of trying to reform the past and atone for his own inaction and culpability. Batman, like our desire for a just world, accountability and vengeance, is a heartbreaking tale of self destruction. At its worst it will manifest as a tragic self-immolation of our lives, our minds and our souls, and those belonging to our friends and family, at best it is Adam West riding a miniature elephant.

My friend’s patio in Maui. The kindness of friends has saved me.

Brits, Americans and one Iraqi, late summer 2004, enjoying some local Iraqi cuisine.

Without makeup on MSNBC.

Damn right Snoopy.

Contractors inside the Horsegate, September, 2004, Tikrit, Iraq. They are waiting to be paid, in cash, in amounts varying between a few thousand dollars and millions. This occurred weekly.

Mona and Risahla. Mona was Shia, Risahla Kurdish. Mona treated me, every day, like her son for nearly a year. I have no idea if she is alive.

A village from the air north of Baghdad in June, 2004. We flew low and fast, which to the villagers was a loud and near constant reminder of our presence.

The Australians remember that war destroys not just the bodies and soul of men, but animals as well. Bless the Australians for such a remembrance. Melbourne, Australia, 2012.

With my good friend Pat, a former Army Ranger. This was the night before I made my first attempt at sobriety. The bar at the top of the W Hotel in Washington, DC overlooking the Treasury Building and the White House, January 31, 2012. The next day I would appear on Hardball with Chris Matthews on MSNBC afraid I would vomit on the set and desperate for an end to it all. Knowing hundreds of thousands of people were watching I decided I couldn’t take my own life and going on as I was was just too painful. I’m still alive.

Young Shia boys gather outside their homes in Sadr City, Baghdad in 2004 or 2005. By now these boys are old enough to fill out the ranks of the Shia militias or the Shia dominated Iraqi Army. That is if they were lucky enough to survive the last decade. A decade that has seen nearly one million Iraqi deaths.

The middle of the day sometime in 2005 in Tikrit. Smoke from the constant oil pipeline fires. In the spring the insurgents would seemingly detonate a pipeline nearly every morning, so much that the detonation, from over 20km away, would often serve as my alarm clock.

When I started speaking publicly against the Afghan War, nearly five years before this interview, I couldn’t have imagined we would be debating war in Iraq again. September, 2014

A message supporting diplomacy with Iran from Spring 2015.

There is a lot to fight for at home. There is really no reason to go abroad looking for monsters. We have too many here.

On the Pakistan border a local man tells us he has no need for any of us.

In Crystal City, Virginia, 2008/9, at the Joint IED Defeat Organization, with former Marines and soldiers, engineers, and scientists to find technologies to detect suicide bombers and IEDs buried in the ground.

Yes, who would he torture?

At an outdoor restaurant in the Green Zone. By 2004 Western staffers were unable to leave the Green Zone, safely, without armed escort, and going to dinner in one of Baghdad’s many restaurants was impossible. Rocket and mortar fire were common in Baghdad, so wearing body armor during a dinner out, in one of the restaurants and bars that existed within the confines of the Green Zone, was often seen as a minor inconvenience.

My first and, only, boss, Chuck, in Tirkit, posing in front of an armored Humvee on FOB Danger. The rumor was that that vehicle had belonged to Michael Jackson. I don’t know if that is true, but what is true is that the US government and its allies were incredibly unprepared for the war in Iraq. Over a year of believing it would get better in Iraq by politicians, bureaucrats and generals finally evaporated and in 2004 the US government purchased and requisitioned armored vehicles across the world to protect its people in Iraq. If I recall right this vehicle was delivered without the keys. Eventually KBR came and took it away.

With Danny Davis and Shea Brown at 2013 Ridenhour Prizes in Washington, DC. If you don’t know Danny’s story, please read it here: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/02/06/world/asia/army-colonel-challenges-pentagons-afghanistan-claims.html

T walls and concertina lined the roads in the Green Zone (GZ). I was first stationed in Baghdad in spring 2004 before moving north to Tikrit, but I returned to the embassy roughly every 6 weeks. Each time I returned to the GZ more fortifications, barricades and obstacles had been constructed. Yet, inside the Embassy, assessments of Iraq were rosy…

Boys in Sadr City, Iraq, Spring 2004. By the time our occupation ended, seven years later, many of these boys would, if they had survived, been part of the Mahdi Army. Note the open top Hummvee at the top of the photo.

Speaking with Lauren Lyster of RT News. I would not drink before doing media, but would almost always spend the rest of the afternoon and evening making friends with the pain in my head via alcohol. Washington, DC. Summer, 2010

Afghan men and boys gawk at a Western woman walking through the streets of their city. Qalat, Zabul Province, Southern Afghanistan.

Palace living in Baghdad.

Brian, one of our Army Corps of Engineers civilians with some cash from one of my safes. Tikrit, Iraq, 2004/5

Building a better Iraq. Nothing like tempting people with the possibility of clean water for their children but then delivering a civil war onto them.

A guard stirs the tea he made for me with the cleaning rod from his rifle. Qalat, Zabul Province, Southern Afghanistan, May 2009

Heavy equipment from my engineer task force getting ready to drop and berm a city in western Anbar Province, Iraq in November 2006. My task force was composed of nearly 300 Marines, Sailors and Soldiers and 100 pieces of rolling equipment, including nearly 50 pieces of engineer equipment. I was later told I had commanded the largest Marine Corps engineer operation of the Iraq War. Within a few years I would not be able to hold a job for more than a few months at a time.

With the three pigs at the Guardian offices in London 2014

Always nice when one of your former Marines, who had a rough go of it on several occasions in both Iraq and Afghanistan, has a child. Semper Fidelis Ethan.

We often need to be refreshed. Rumi. 13th century.

Commemorating the compassion of a man and his donkey amidst the slaughter, suffering, insanity, and the profound and mean stupidity of the Gallipoli campaign in 2015. Melbourne, Australia.

The sandbags of the embassy compound in Baghdad. 2004/5

Speaking in NJ. Winter 2011.

In 2004 I sit next to a gentlemen who would be killed just a few days later. HIs funeral would be attacked and bombed, slaughtering family and friends mourning a good man, which he was, he was one of the few. Years later my own government would attack funerals with drones and airstrikes.

Checking on the status of road work in southeastern Afghanistan. Summer 2009.

JFK memorial in Melbourne, Australia. It’s nice to be overseas and see a monument to the United States representative of something other than fast food.

Those left behind. I was in Melbourne, Australia in 2012 to keynote an Australian national security conference. My talk to a couple hundred people was roughly well received by half those at the conference center in the Melbourne Cricket Stadium. The others, primarily from senior government, the defense industry, and those looking to join the defense industry or senior government was not so receptive. Simply put, my talk proffered the question: why is Australia jumping into the quicksand of Afghanistan (at this time the Australians were replacing the Dutch in Uruzgan province in southern Afghanistan).

At Jalalabad Airbase in northeastern Afghanistan, Spring 2009. An old Soviet warplane lays broken, placed upon American HESCO, while nearby are the steps where Osama bin Laden announced his arrival in Afghanistan and declared continued war against the US. Bin Laden made that statement several months before the Taliban conquered this area; the Taliban effectively inherited bin Laden. Meanwhile, the man who actually brought bin Laden to Afghanistan, Abdul Rasoul Sayaf is today a prominent member of the Afghan Parliament who has run as a candidate for President. He actually won Kandahar Province in voting in 2014.

What it looks like when a rocket strikes next to your office. Our office was the second window on the left, close to the impact point. No one was hurt. I was eating downstairs in the chow hall, but Rita, our Christian-Iraqi secretary was in the office at the time. Whoever applied the mylar coating that prevented the window from becoming shrapnel saved Rita’s life. Baghdad, May 2004.

Flying to Baghdad in 2004/5. This was often very cold and loud, or very hot and loud, but much, much safer than driving back and forth on Route Tampa.