The rough demo can be heard here.

And here are the lyrics:

The wind holds all opinions to itself as it rolls through
The shift in the direction is the only thing that’s true
Let go of tomorrow and it might soon fall behind
The thunder in the distance mirrors echoes of the mind

So breathe in; the heartbeat is the cadence of our sins

Head across the mountain through the darkness down below
The path is laid clear by the steps of those who fell before
The sun and moon don’t judge time; they’re above to show the way
Reach to the horizon and you’ll capture it one day
And just shine on . . .

Fiction won’t become real through desire or force of will
Running faster makes the pain of trying greater still
The pride will judge the jury and just revel in the state
Living’s mostly learning tricks around accepting fate

So breathe in; the heartbeat is the cadence of our sins

Head across the mountain through the darkness down below
The path is laid clear by the steps of those who fell before
The sun and moon don’t judge time; they’re above to show the way
Reach to the horizon and you’ll capture it one day
And just shine on . . .

I plan on debuting the song during The EDs performance in Leonardtown as part of “First Friday” on February 3. (No lead break or bongos, though.)

Ward will be on C-SPAN’s “Q&A” program this Sunday (Jan. 8) at 8 and 11 PM talking with host Brian Lamb about the state of today’s military.  See more about the show here.

2012 should be a year ripe for picking in terms of random thoughts and impressions what with the election, the economy, the shrinking defense budget, and the olympics in the mix.

In the meantime, Happy New Year.

The added flight time was no factor as far as making our connection to Kabul was concerned because we had an eight-hour layover.  We killed time eating sausage and kraut (when in Germany) and bumming around the unspectacular terminal.  After a serious pat down by security (I set the alarm off for some reason) we were aboard our Safi Air jet (767) for Kabul.

We had feared the worst with Safi, but all in all it was a nice surprise.  We’d scored an exit row so there was plenty of leg room and the flight attendants were very attentive.  (Plus, we got another hot meal — chicken this time.  Never thought I’d consider an in-flight meal a luxury.)  The in-flight entertainment was beamed against a screen right in front of us.  Most of the time it was the moving map display, which brings out the aviator in me, of course.  I also enjoy the cities that they highlight along the way — places like Lvov and other cities with a bunch of consonants all crammed together.  The moving map was interrupted briefly by some Turkish candid camera-like show that was weird but engaging in its innocence.

We made our way east, along the northern part of Turkey and across the Black Sea.  Then Iraq and Iran and into Afghanistan.  It didn’t seem real.  The sun had come up by the time we made our approach into Kabul, the capital city surrounded by mountains.  As we walked off the plane we were greeted by a beautiful morning, clear and crisp.  It’s a tired analogy, but it did remind me of Fallon, Nevada.

After clearing customs and waiting a long time for our bags (always nerve-wracking) we went looking for a taxi.  There were a lot of locals waiting to “help” — get the taxi, show you the way to the parking lot, help carry your bags — each demanding $20 for the effort (the magic sum, apparently).

So we loaded into the taxi and headed around the perimeter of the airport to the military side.  Along the way we went through a checkpoint, along a roundabout, and passed by a line of shops that were right out of central casting — a bustling shanty town, half enterprising, half squalor.

The cab driver dumped us once we got in sight of the machine gun at the military checkpoint and we cautiously gathered our bags and approached the German soldiers manning the post.  After about 30 minutes our Army contacts showed up and drove us to the terminal where we got our credentials and were informed we were scheduled to fly to Bagram in the afternoon.  We wound up talking to a German PBS crew for awhile; they’re headed up north to embed with their countrymen.  Great conversation — the brotherhood of journalism, I guess.

So now I’m killing time in one of the rec centers surrounded by young soldiers at computer stations updating their Facebook pages, playing pool, or video games.  (Two guys next to me are playing a college football game — ECU vs. West Virginia.)

It’ seems calm and routine here, but, of course, we’re “in the rear with the gear” at this point.

In any case, the trip has gone smoothly so far . . .

This trip has been in work for some time.  Christian — a veteran of several embeds to Iraq and Aghanistan — received an invite from an Army public affairs officer right before his unit deployed a few months ago.  It has been two years since Christian went to Iraq — the first embed for a Military.com writer — and we figured the time is right for us to get a fresh firsthand look at the war effort.  After all, when your URL is “Military.com” you’d better be willing to roll up your sleeves (or maybe roll DOWN your sleeves) and walk a mile (or three) in your core audiences’ boots.  So as the trip was gathering momentum, I thought it would be more productive if Christian and I both went.

For my part, I’m grateful for the opportunity.  My military experience is substantial, I guess, but it also is what it is; I flew over Bosnia in ‘95 during the Serbian seige of Sarajevo.  While the airwing’s Hornets dropped bombs, the Tomcats I was in took pictures with their TARPS pods.  No SAMs were fired at us.  If the bad guys shot their rifles into the air I was ignorant of it.  I patrolled the no-fly zone over southern Iraq for days on end, but without incident.  I’ve spent a lot of time in the Middle East — Israel, UAE, Bahrain — and never weathered so much as a sneer from the locals.

Heck, my third novel — Punk’s Fight — is set mostly on the ground in Afghanistan.  So, while I’m not necessarily an adrenaline junkie a la Travis Pastrana et. al., I’d feel like a poseur of sorts if I didn’t put myself out there.  After all, I often offer my two cents on TV and radio (not to mention the Internet) regarding the war effort and the state of the U.S. military.  And as Caroline the Rockridge Yoga instructor says, “If you haven’t experienced it it’s someone else’s information.”

So my bags are packed — three of them:  A rolling duffel, a backpack, and a “3-day assault pack.”  The duffel has most of the important war gear — body armor, helmet, gloves, kneepads, night vision devices, rain gear, goggles, etc.  The backpack has my sleeping bag and clothes.  And the assault pack has my electronics (laptop, iPod, headphones, camcorder, digital voice recorder) and important papers.  (Thanks to BLACKHAWK! for outfitting us, by the way.  We’re seriously rigged out.)  And that’s it.  Three weeks worth of stuff in three bags.  We have to be agile, ready to go from Humvee to helo, from FOB to outpost and back again at a moment’s notice.

Whatever happens, few things in my life have felt as important as this trip.  Again, I’m lucky to have the opportunity.

Stay tuned for the rest . . .

If you’re reading this, you’re no doubt asking yourself, “Why did this have to happen?”  The simple truth is that it is complicated and has been coming for a long time.  The writing process, started many months ago, was intended to be therapy in the face of the looming realization that there isn’t enough therapy in the world that can fix what is really broken.  Needless to say, this rant could fill volumes with example after example if I would let it.  I find the process of writing it frustrating, tedious, and probably pointless… especially given my gross inability to gracefully articulate my thoughts in light of the storm raging in my head.  Exactly what is therapeutic about that I’m not sure, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

We are all taught as children that without laws there would be no society, only anarchy.  Sadly, starting at early ages we in this country have been brainwashed to believe that, in return for our dedication and service, our government stands for justice for all.  We are further brainwashed to believe that there is freedom in this place, and that we should be ready to lay our lives down for the noble principals represented by its founding fathers.  Remember? One of these was “no taxation without representation”.  I have spent the total years of my adulthood unlearning that crap from only a few years of my childhood.  These days anyone who really stands up for that principal is promptly labeled a “crackpot”, traitor and worse.

While very few working people would say they haven’t had their fair share of taxes (as can I), in my lifetime I can say with a great degree of certainty that there has never been a politician cast a vote on any matter with the likes of me or my interests in mind.  Nor, for that matter, are they the least bit interested in me or anything I have to say.

Why is it that a handful of thugs and plunderers can commit unthinkable atrocities (and in the case of the GM executives, for scores of years) and when it’s time for their gravy train to crash under the weight of their gluttony and overwhelming stupidity, the force of the full federal government has no difficulty coming to their aid within days if not hours?  Yet at the same time, the joke we call the American medical system, including the drug and insurance companies, are murdering tens of thousands of people a year and stealing from the corpses and victims they cripple, and this country’s leaders don’t see this as important as bailing out a few of their vile, rich cronies.  Yet, the political “representatives” (thieves, liars, and self-serving scumbags is far more accurate) have endless time to sit around for year after year and debate the state of the “terrible health care problem”.  It’s clear they see no crisis as long as the dead people don’t get in the way of their corporate profits rolling in.

And justice? You’ve got to be kidding!

(more…)

]]> http://wardcarroll.com/blog/2010/02/18/joe-stack-the-tea-partys-first-martyr/feed/ http://wardcarroll.com/blog/2010/02/01/talking-dadt-on-wtop-in-dc/ http://wardcarroll.com/blog/2010/02/01/talking-dadt-on-wtop-in-dc/#comments Mon, 01 Feb 2010 18:51:27 +0000 Ward http://wardcarroll.com/blog/2010/02/01/talking-dadt-on-wtop-in-dc/

I spoke with WTOP’s Nathan Hagar yesterday about the near-term future of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” Is it as easy as a stroke of the pens from the likes of Pelosi and Reid? Is this simply lip service from the Obama administration to the progressive wing of the Democratic party going into the midterm elections? And will repealing affect military readiness and the warfighting effort?

Listen now . . .

Download

]]> http://wardcarroll.com/blog/2010/02/01/talking-dadt-on-wtop-in-dc/feed/ http://wardcarroll.com/blog/2010/01/07/2009-wardcarrollcom-song-of-the-year/ http://wardcarroll.com/blog/2010/01/07/2009-wardcarrollcom-song-of-the-year/#comments Thu, 07 Jan 2010 16:58:47 +0000 Ward http://wardcarroll.com/blog/2010/01/07/2009-wardcarrollcom-song-of-the-year/  Dark, etherial, and soaring.  A visual and sonic masterpiece that signaled that prog rock was back in 2009.

 
]]> http://wardcarroll.com/blog/2010/01/07/2009-wardcarrollcom-song-of-the-year/feed/