Author's notes about these
Military Support Cigar Chronicles

While not necessarily beating the drum for the cigar industry, it is a reality that smoking cigars is one of the few pastimes permitted soldiers in Iraq. Under Coalition command policy - General Order #1 - troops are forbidden to consume alcoholic beverages, and, it goes without saying, illegal drug use is prohibited and thankfully minimal. Partially as a consequence, most all soldiers either smoke cigarettes or cigars or use smokeless tobacco products. Of the three I personally consider cigars the most benign.
        
There is camaraderie among military people - even when old-timers like me interact with the younger generation - that transcends age, race, sex, or time served. Cigar smoking in Iraq played a large part in renewing that spirit for me and in building bridges across generations.
        
So I'm offering for your enjoyment a few stories from my too-brief time spent with the soldiers and thereby hope to give you a brief glimpse into life with the military police in Baghdad and beyond.

— Gordon Cucullu

In the aftermath of an insurgent rocket attack, soldiers at the 18th MP Brigade befriended this wounded seagull.
Click the photo to read the article
"A Seagull Named Rocket."

Lieutenant Colonel (Chaplain)
Peter Baktis at "He Brews Cafe,"
Camp Liberty, Iraq. Click the photo
to read "Coffee with the MP Brigade
at 'He Brews' Cafe."

After the Patrol - Conversations at Joe's Cafe

Evenings north of Baghdad at Camp Speicher are usually spent around a place called Joe's Cafe. Speicher is located in flat, barren, wind-blasted desert near the Iraqi cities of Tikrit and Samarra. It was named after the Navy aviator who was missing in action and never accounted for since the Gulf War. Several U.S. units call this their current home including the 728th MP Battalion (Warfighters), commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Brian Bisacre.

Characterized by his distinctive Boston accent, Bisacre has responsibility for a vast area of operations ranging from the Kurdish territories in the northwest down to Rusafa in eastern Baghdad. Unlike the more urban-centered units, the 728th spends lots of time on the roads because of long distances between IP stations.

One evening spent outside of Joe's, I shared cigars with the battalion medic, Staff Sergeant Ronald "Doc" Cardey, a 39- year old soldier from San Antonio, Texas. Doc is a "break in service" NCO who had a six-year gap before returning. He is older than most of his compatriots and has a wife and 4 children (2 boys, 2 girls) waiting for him back home.

Doc is one of the character NCOs that make the Army such an interesting institution. He shook my equipment down that morning

before we rolled out on the patrol that would take us down to Samarra. When he asked "do you have a tourniquet?" I pointed to the issue first aid packet that I'd borrowed at the 18th thanks to the intervention of public affairs officer Major Mike Indovina. Doctrine when I was on active duty was that when rendering aid to a casualty, you always use the casualty's first aid kit first. It turned out that no one had ever asked Mike for a kit before and when I exited he decided to make that standard issue for all media people coming through.

Asking if he could look, Doc disassembled the kit, tore the tourniquet out of its plastic protective bag and arranged it for instant use. He rummaged around the rest of the kit, re-positioning this and rearranging that. After he finished and grunted in satisfaction I asked him a question.

"Doc, where is your tourniquet?" I had noticed that he did not have a first aid kit affixed to his IBA. He fumbled, and when I pressed for an answer, patted the top left leg pocket in his uniform. "I keep it here," he said confidently.

"And, Doc," I asked sweetly, pressing him, "Just how am I - or anyone else who may have to treat you - going to know that?" After hemming and hawing and going through some exchanges it was clear that Doc and I had become if not friends, then battle buddies.

Later that night, when we smoked cigars and conversed quietly outside of Joe's, Doc spoke frankly and openly about his motivation, his concern and love for the soldiers, and his dedication to duty, although he often tried to disguise those sentiments under a rough exterior.

Thanks, Doc, for wanting to take care of me. It was an honor to roll out in combat with you.

— Gordon Cucullu

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