Forensic Alums

The intent of this page is just to pass on news about past members of the NC forensic team. If you would like to send me some information that you would want to share, please email it to byoung14@yahoo.com

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Tim O’Donnell 88 comments on the importance of debate http://www.post-gazette.com/pg/07364/845125-35.stm

ALUMS MENTIONED ON THIS PAGE:

 

Mike Bummer 97

Derek Davison 93, (2)

Brendan Delaney 96, (2), (3), (4)

Chris Dziubek 85, (2)

Bill Eck 04, (2)

Sandra Kozlowski 93

Jessica Lisjak 00, (2), (3)

Justin Mahood 04

Jeremiah McKain 03, (2)

Ian McMeans 04, (2)

 

 

From Jess Lisjak 12/5/2007

Things have been busy for me as usual!  Mike got a new job (I can't remember if I told you that or not).  He is now the graphic designer for the CLO!  So he gets to design all of their programs and the posters that hang outside the building for the summer season and the newsletter they send out.  It's really exciting, but it's been an adjustment since he's working different hours now (9-5).  We've been busy with wedding planning and we've started looking for a house.  Right now we're looking in the Kennedy/Robinson/Moon area.  We'd like to stay near Kennedy to stay near Mike's sister and her family.  But, we'll see! 
World Youth Day fundraising has also been keeping me busy.  I'm at the point where I hate hoagie sales...but after the holidays, we'll probably be back to having them almost monthly to help the girls raise the money to go on the trip. 
I'm also helping out more with the OLSH spring musical this year... especially with Mike gone and unable to help anymore since he works for the CLO!  We're doing Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat this year.  I'm excited because I like the show and the kids are excited, too.  I figure that will keep me busy when things start making me nervous for the wedding! :) 
On another note, I joined St. James' choir, which I'm really enjoying!  I didn't realize how much I missed singing in a choir until I went back to it!  They have a really good music program and director and we do a pretty big Christmas concert, so it's been fun to learn new music and work on stuff that's not just your typical church song...

 

From Mike Bummer 12/5/2007

Hey Ms. Young! 

 

Happy Holidays!  It's always nice to see emails from you and relive the memories from a good ole times at North Catholic. 

 

Christin and I are still living in Shaler, about 1/2 mile past Shaler High School on Wible Run Road.  I only have 1.5 years of my OB/Gyn Residency - I'm already looking into practices in the Pittsburgh area.

 

Best wishes,

Mike

 
 
 
From Derek Davison! 
Beth,
 
…As for me, I'm in the second year of a two-year MA program in
Middle Eastern Studies.  I'm in my second year of studying
Arabic and my first of Persian, and have been taking a lot of
history classes.  This year, in addition to working on my
thesis I have the fun task of waiting nervously to see if
Chicago will accept my application for the Ph.D. program in
Near Eastern Languages and Civilizations.  I'm writing my
thesis on nomadic frontier societies the Middle East and
Central Asia, which doesn't sound very interesting but really
is for me at least.  I think I'm doing well in this program
and my professors seem to like me, but I started this without
any real background in Middle Eastern history or (more
importantly) in any of the useful regional or scholarly (like
French, German, or Russian) languages (as it turns out I
should have taken French instead of Spanish and paid more
attention in my undergrad Russian classes), so I'm still
probably behind some of the other potential applicants.  At
least I'm better qualified now than I was two years ago. 
We'll see what happens.
 
Anyway, that's what I'm up to.  I hope things are going well
with you.
 
Best,
Derek

----------------------

          8/7/2005 I received this picture a few weeks ago, but I thought that you might           want to see the Dziubek family! (click on the thumbnail to see the enlarged           picture) And then, below, is the latest update from Chris from Iraq.

-----------------------

This is a reflection, written over the course of the past month, on the death of SGT Andy Eckert who was our battalion’s first casualty to die of his wounds here in Iraq.  Life continues to move forward for the rest of us and we are very busy in our new assignment.  Thank you for your continued support, it sustains me.

 

Regards,

Chris

 

Mothers Day, Sunday, May 8th was a beautiful day here in Iraq.  The sky was deep blue; there was not a cloud to be seen.  Our battalion was in the midst of moving to a new location in Ramadi and we had moved about one third of our equipment.  One of our companies, C Co., was staying behind in the Tikrit region.  Although they did not have the same tasks on their plate, they were busy nonetheless.  On that morning two dozen of our soldiers embarked in eight vehicles to accomplish three tasks.  Because they were the only remaining construction unit left in the 42nd Infantry Division their skills were in high demand.  They dropped some equipment off in one US camp, some soldiers off at another, and then journeyed to the city of Samara to pick up other C Company soldiers who had been working at a third US camp.

 

Samara is not a friendly place.  With over 200,000 people it is the largest city in the Iraqi province of Salah Ad Din.  It is a city of some importance to Muslims.  During the 9th century it served as the capital of the Muslim World and today there remain a number of buildings that are important historical sites.  At the north end of the center of the city there is the Great Friday Mosque with a 156 foot minaret that has a staircase that spirals upward on the outside of the round walls.  It is the tallest structure for hundreds of miles in all directions, is over 1100 years old, and really quite beautiful.  In its shadow SGT Andy Eckert died on that beautiful Sunday morning.

 

SGT Eckert and I joined the 983rd Engineer Battalion on the same day in 2001.  In early 2003 SGT Eckert was reassigned by the Army to another engineer battalion that was being sent to Iraq.  Ironically it was during this time when I really got to know him.  At the time I was the commander of C Company, 983rd.  From January to March of that year we had a total of 25 soldiers transferred from the company to other battalions around the Army to fill their shortages as they prepared to go to Iraq.  At the time Andy was a Private First Class and went to war in Iraq, albeit in separate battalions, with a group of other young soldiers with whom he was friends. 

 

Three of these soldiers went right out and got married, despite my advice to the contrary.  You see, I was the company commander, “the old man”; it was my job to make sure no one did anything rash on their way to the war zone.  The Army arms commanders with the statistics; 25% of reserve soldiers quit their jobs upon being notified of an impending deployment and 33% of those soldiers end up not deploying due to some health problem or the unit turns out not to be needed; 3 out of 4 marriages that occur immediately prior to a deployment end in divorce.  I gave my speech to PFC Eckert and the others, but it made no difference.  All 3 were married anyway and it turns out that Andy knew himself and his circumstance better than the army.  His marriage to Tiphany turned out to be a strong one, between two people who loved each other above all.

 

During his time away I got to know his new wife Tiphany.  She wanted to become involved as much as possible with the Army.  She was determined to support her husband as much as she could.  She did the full immersion method not by enlisting herself, but by becoming involved with our Family Readiness Group.  She started out by volunteering to be at the Monclova Reserve Center on weekends when we were drilling.  Her husband was in Iraq, but she showed up to sell sandwiches, soda, and other goodies to help raise money for our group.  Her enthusiasm and energy were infectious.  I remember her being always upbeat, deflecting questions about her own tough time and focusing all of our attention on her husband Andy and the other deployed soldiers.  She became a rare thing in Family Readiness Groups; a volunteer who was focused on the plight of the young single soldier.  Men and women of her age who did not have a spouse or children of their own.  As my time in command drew to a close, I considered who I would ask to volunteer to take my wife’s place as the volunteer leader of the group.  When I asked Tiphany if she would be interested, she jumped at the chance.  Not despite having her own newborn daughter, she knew that this was a way to give back to her husband and support him.  She learned very early that a married soldier is not alone; they with their spouse form a strong team and cannot serve alone.  Both have their hardships; one goes to war, the other runs their household, raises their children, and continues their lives in the community where they live.

 

I was in my tactical operations center when I first learned that something was wrong.  I received a phone call from 1LT Dave Lubke, C Co. commander, asking me to come over to his command post.  Something in his voice indicated urgency.  When I got there he told me that his convoy had been attacked and that there were 3 soldiers injured.  We decided to walk together to his new higher headquarters, the engineer brigade of the 42nd Infantry Division.  There they have radios, tactical telephones, secure and non-secure internet computers, and a GPS enhanced map display that helps to maintain a sense of what is going on in our area.  We went to gather more information on the situation that was occurring 160 miles to our south in Samara.  A truism in combat is that the first report is always wrong and that was true in our case.  Three casualties turned out to be two, and these two soldiers had been treated at the scene of the blast, and then quickly evacuated by helicopter to a trauma hospital in Balad, Iraq.  I felt helpless as we began to ask questions and sort out contradictory information.  We were able to make contact with First Sergeant Doug Wilson who had accompanied the wounded soldiers to the hospital.  He was in charge of the convoy that morning.  He told his commander, 1LT Lubke, that SGT Ryan Cossette, another soldier on the convoy that morning had a compound fracture of his right arm but did not know how bad it was.  SGT Eckert, he explained, was in much more serious condition but he did not know any more.

 

I later learned the convoy had been attacked as it slowed to make a 90 degree right hand turn in the city streets of Samara.  It was the last of a number of such turns that had to be made as they worked their way toward the U.S. camp where their fellow soldiers had spent the last six days working construction projects to improve the quality of life for the soldiers who were based there.  The bomb was placed on the outside of a road curb, buried in the dirt.  It was made from two 155mm artillery rounds that were rigged with a remote controlled detonation device which probably consisted of a garage door opener or cell phone.  The blast hit the HUMVEE SGT Eckert and SGT Cossette were traveling in right at the center of the vehicle between the right front and right rear doors.  The shrapnel that broke SGT Cossette's arm burst through the armored door of the HUMVEE.  A few inches down and he would have been struck in the lung.  Miraculously, the driver and the gunner in the vehicle were unharmed even though shrapnel passed above, behind, and in front of them both.  SGT Eckert did not receive any shrapnel wounds, but did receive a blow to his head that I think was caused by his door being blown momentarily inward.  He never regained consciousness before dying at the hospital 6 hours later.

 

Our Brigade headquarters arranged for a Blackhawk helicopter to take leaders of C Co. from our base in Tikrit to the hospital in Balad.  The C Co. commander asked if I would go with him on the helicopter.  As the former commander of that company I have done my best to get out of 1LT Lubkes way.  The last thing a commander needs is the former commander hanging around so I have tried to avoid a lot of personal contact with the soldiers of C Co. since coming to Iraq.  Nevertheless, I was inwardly hoping to go to the hospital.  When we got onto the Blackhawk at 1:30 in the afternoon we only knew that SGT Eckert’s condition was listed as critical.  The flight seemed to take longer than the 40 minutes it actually took.  I was seated on the left side of the helicopter facing forward.  1LT Lubke was seated directly in front of me facing to the rear of the aircraft.  We did not talk to each other the whole flight, both of us lost in our thoughts.  The passenger door was open and I had a birds eye view as we flew south.  Our route was sparsely populated, but every house we passed over seemed to have children.  They would run out as they heard us approach and madly wave to us.  They were so disconnected from our situation that I was struck with the difference.  I prepared myself mentally for what we might find when we arrived at the hospital, but only in a vague way.  I allowed myself to be distracted by the differences in the terrain, the road traffic, and memories of when I piloted Army helicopters.  This luxury of distraction ended when we arrived at our destination in Balad.  We were dropped off at a passenger terminal and had to catch a shuttle bus to the hospital.  By 3 pm we were there.

 

We walked through the concrete barriers that ringed the hospital constructed out of tents; 48 separate tents in all, branching to either side of a long and narrow plywood floored hallway.  We immediately met 1SG Wilson in the first tent.  His eyes were red, his mood resigned.  In hushed tones in the corner of that tent he told us that Andy was alive but would not make it.  I lost my breath.  It felt as if I had been punched as I fought back tears.  He led us down the long hallway; we turned to the right, and came into a tent with desks on one side and couches on the other.  Multiple hallways branched out from this tent and it became clear we were in a hub.  A female Army doctor came in and pulled a chair up to our couch.  She described in graphic terms Andy’s injury. 

 

Andy had been hit in the head with something, she could not say what.  No shrapnel had penetrated his body or his head.  His helmet had not made it to the hospital, but she did not think that it had been penetrated either.  It may have been a piece of his armored door or the shockwave of the blast itself.  Whatever it had been had caused his head to begin to swell immediately.  His body was trying to fix itself, but the result was severe head trauma.  The neurosurgeon had cut away the front of his skull to relieve the pressure, but the injury was too severe.  There was nothing that they could do to save him and they knew that he would die.

 

After a long pause she asked if we would like to be with him.  We agreed and the four of us headed to the Intensive Care Unit, another tent.  There were three patients there at 3:15 p.m. on that mother’s day.  Andy was on the table closest to the door of the tent.  Nurses, most from the Australian Army, hovered around us as we inched toward his table.  His neck was immobilized with a spinal collar; his forehead was wrapped with a white gauze bandage, his body covered with a green wool blanket.  At first the three of us stood at his feet, quiet, and alone.  The nurses drew closer to Andy and talked to him, telling him that we were here.  They had been talking to him since he had arrived despite his unconsciousness.  One of the Australians told me that they talked to every patient regardless of their condition because we don’t know what they can sense.

 

1SG Wilson and 1LT Lubke withdrew from his bedside after about 20 minutes with the doctor.  She was trying to reach Andy’s wife by telephone to let her know his condition.  I stayed with him and the nurses stayed with us.  I moved closer to his face and began to explain to the nurses who Andy was, his wife Tiphany, his 2 year old daughter Marlee, and his month old son Myles.  It was then that my tears started to flow.  I had to talk in spurts as I explained that he had been here in Iraq from March, 2003 until April, 2004.  That he had been injured with shrapnel wounds to his face just outside of Samara in April of 2004; that he had volunteered to come back with us because he felt it was his duty; that his wife had given birth to their son Myles one month ago.  After a few minutes of this I began to talk directly to Andy as I held his hand.  I told him that he was a good soldier, a good leader.  I told him that his wife loved him, that his children loved him.  I told him the names of all of us who would look out for his family, we would take care of them, and we would make certain their material needs would be met.  I told him that we would someday tell his children what kind of man he was and what he meant to those who served with him.

 

As this was happening, the doctor came back in with 1SG Wilson and 1LT Lubke.  They had been unsuccessful in their attempt to reach Andy’s wife.  Doug Wilson and Dave Lubke now took his hands and said their good-byes.  They stood on Andy’s left and I on his right as the doctor explained that the effect of the paralyzing anesthesia that Andy had been given was wearing off.  Soon his body would be responsible again to sustain his life.  His brain was dead according to the monitors.  Their professional knowledge told them his body would not be able to sustain his heart and lungs, but they bowed to the higher power that is God.  They would give his body a chance to take over.

 

The breathing tube was removed.  As the three of us held his hands and arms, rested our hands gently on his chest, and watched as his heart beat became erratic.  There was no movement in his limbs, no tension in his body.  The monitors showed a heartbeat of 20 bpm then seconds later 170 bpm.  All the while Andy’s body remained motionless.  Seven minutes after removing his breathing tube, despite his body’s effort, his heart stopped beating.  He was dead at 4:16 p.m. on May 8th, 2005.

 

We stayed for a while after.  We asked questions of the doctors and nurses about how his body would be transported home.  An honor guard of airman, marines, and soldiers would stand watch over his body until he was loaded aboard an Air Force cargo plane bound first to Germany and then to the United States.  Andy would not be alone on that flight as four other young men had died that day from their wounds, two from the Samara area and two from the Ramadi area.  We thanked the dozen or so medical personnel for everything they had done.  We thanked them for supporting the three of us.  At 4:30 we wandered out of the ICU. 

 

For 2 or so hours the three of us found our own spots to be alone.  I went to the hospital chapel to sit and think.  I ended up saying a rosary for Andy’s soul and for his wife in her grief.  I was numb with sadness and knew that the news of Andy’s death was now finding its way through the Army notification system back to Andy’s wife and mom.  The fact that it was mother’s day compounded my sadness because this day of celebration was now entwined with a memory of grief and sadness for his family.  My mind continued to go back to the wrongness that the first member of the battalion to die was someone who did not have to come back; someone who had already been wounded in battle in the same war; someone who had done his time and volunteered to return, not because he thirsted for war, but because he defined it as his duty.  My mind was filled with thoughts of reflection, but not about Andy’s life.  Increasingly during these two hours alone I thought about our organization, our battalion.  Had we as leaders done everything we could have to prevent Andy’s death?  Had I trained these soldiers well enough?

 

I found the soldier who had been sitting in the seat in front of SGT Eckert when the bomb was detonated.  SGT Ryan Cossette was in a ward for patients waiting to be evacuated for further treatment.  His arm was in a cast temporarily as a piece of shrapnel had broken the bones in his forearm after passing through his door.  His spirits were high until he had been told of Andy’s death.  The shrapnel that broke his arm had passed within inches of his chest and all the vital organs within.  He had cheated death that day.  SGT Cossette is now at Fort Knox’s hospital recovering from his injury.

 

I found 1SG Wilson and 1LT Lubke and we made our way to the chow hall.  We then tried to catch a flight back to our base in Tikrit, but were told there were no flights that night.  So we hunted for a cot, found one, and went to sleep.  The next morning the three of us caught a space available helicopter and made our way back.  The rest of that day for me was spent talking with soldiers who had been on the mission with SGT Eckert.  I shared with them my opinion that they had all acted appropriately, had done everything right, and had done everything they could have done to save Andy’s life.  The mood was understandably somber and many of these soldiers felt guilty about having survived.  Andy’s vehicle has parked near the C Co. barracks, having been hauled by the other members of the patrol back to Speicher on the previous day.  I saw the hole that had been punched into SGT Cossette’s door and the damage done to SGT Eckert’s.  The soldier who had been driving and the gunner up in the turret hatch had cleaned the vehicle of the blood that had been shed by SGTs Cossette and Eckert.  I spoke with both of them at length.  I did a lot of listening.

 

That night I fell asleep at 10 p.m. and did not awaken until 19 hours later.

 

 

______________________________________

MAJ Chris Dziubek

Executive Officer

983rd Engineer Combat Battalion(Heavy)

 

-----------------------

Preface: (you know you're in trouble when an email comes with a preface!)
This note began as a response to my dear, not that old, Grammy, but so many
words flew out that I have decided to expand my audience. So, with
apologies to Grammy, here it is.


Grammy,


I just now read your quick hello. We had a bunch of things go wrong this
past week and I kept putting off any personal writing to help "pee on the
fire" as we say when something urgent is happening.

Well my bladder is now empty and the fires are out. I would guess that I
spend 50% of my time REACTING to things that occur around here. I would
prefer to spend 90% of my time planning for things that are supposed to be
accomplished, but events don't always cooperate! Sometimes I forget the
true nature of this war as I try and impose my banker's hours on it.

We share a headquarters building with another engineer battalion from
Tennessee and are a short walk from our higher headquarters, a brigade from
Buffalo, NY. The other battalion has a mission that is very different from
ours. They LOOK for the IEDs (Improvised Explosive Devices) daily over a
stretch of highway roughly the length of I-75 from Toledo to Dayton.
Sometimes they find them before they explode, that is a good day. Sometimes
they explode before they find them, that is a bad day. This time one
exploded below one of their trucks. This IED was particularly hideous in
that instead of shrapnel exploding out in all directions, it was built with
an explosive surrounded by a mixture of diesel fuel and soap. The result is
a fireball that sticks to surfaces that it touches. Two soldiers were in
the truck at the time. Luckily they were pulled out by another soldier from
the vehicle behind them. All 3 suffered burns severe enough for them to be
evacuated to the Army burn center in San Antonio, TX. The good news is that
all three are expected to make a full recovery, without any permanent
disfigurement. Thus far our battalion has not had any injuries or deaths.

The base where I am living is big; 25 kilometers of fence line separates us
from the rest of Iraq. We guard the perimeter full time, 24 hrs per day.
Last week, early one morning before sun-up, one of the guards reported
seeing two persons walking in front of her position. She did not shoot them
as we are supposed to do. After a confusing couple of hours the base
commander decided to increase our alert status, which included cutting off
access to the telephones. All traffic in and out of the base was also
stopped. The idea was to attempt to find these two mystery persons. It was
also an opportunity for all of us to realize how good we have it here at FOB
Speicher. We have miles of desert around us in almost all directions, we
are quite some distance from urban area, and we have a lot of creature
comforts. I would be willing to say that of all the places soldiers are, we
have one of the safest bases. Safety, however, breeds complacency.
Therefore we have to impress upon all our soldiers a certain level of forced
vigilance. Discipline is our most constant challenge, but the majority of
our soldiers get it.

Finally, and on a much lighter side, I spent a good deal of time fighting
within our little bureaucracy here on the base to ensure that we get as many
of those creature comforts as any other soldier on the base. Anyone working
on an MBA, Masters of Organizational Leadership, or maybe just a high school
social studies teacher would be fascinated by the group dynamics in our
little slice of the Army. Obviously we have a hierarchical society with
rank, but we also have units from the New York National Guard, Army
Reservists from all over, and Active component units at the company level.
When the Colonels, Lieutenant Colonels, and Majors come together to discuss
resource allocation there is competition. While generally everyone works to
ensure that soldiers are taken care of, there are many ways to define "taken
care of". The result is sometimes some seriously petty squabbles!

Last week we got caught up in the middle of one. Our base is an old Iraqi
Air Force base and just like in the U.S. they had different levels of family
housing here. Our battalion lives in a neighborhood of 3 to 5 bedroom
houses laid out in a perfect city planning grid. From the outside they look
pretty worn out, concrete structures with bullet holes from past conflicts.
They were affectionately referred to by the US troops we replaced as the
"crack houses". Now this term really worked to the advantage of those who
lived in them for the past year. Who, after all, wants to live in "crack
houses". The reality is a whole that better than the perception of the name
implies. Last years occupants made great improvements to the interiors so
that all of them have electricity and 60% or so have some level of indoor
plumbing. The house I live in is next door to the house where Matt Houck
(St. Joan of Arc alumni) lived until last month. I have a locker to store
my clothes, a bed and mattress to sleep on, a bidet (albeit a
non-operational one, but it makes me feel so cosmopolitan and chic)(if you
don't spreken ze the French see http://www.bidet.com/ for an explanation), a
shower and sink to use, and unlike my Toledo accommodations, no small person
who wanders in at 2:00 am to compete for the covers (although I do miss that
a little). What more could I want in a combat zone?!?

Well in line with the "grass is always greener on the other side" thinking,
the houses across the street have been recently renovated by a Turkish
construction firm. They are well lit inside and out, have two flushable
toilets, two working showers with brand new tile, newly plastered walls, new
bunk beds, couches, upholstered chairs, etc., etc. In an occupation plan we
were given by our higher headquarters in January, they were ours! Thus we
planned accordingly and since they were not yet ready for moving in when we
first arrived they were a great "balm" to soothe the rough feelings of the
soldiers who were still living in tents with only their duffle bags and cots
until last week. Sure, these 60 soldiers had to continue to live the
tent/duffle bag life while the rest of us unpacked in our houses, but they
were to get the absolute best that Iraq has to offer its current occupiers!
I mean, those Turks build one hell of a house!

Enter the "Mayor who stole the Houses", similar in plot to the "Grinch who
stole Christmas" from the perspective of those 60 soldier lu whos.

The mayor is in actuality called the Garrison Commander, and is in charge of
all the real estate on the base. His, and his staff of 20, is a thankless
job. If they excel, no one notices; if they screw up just once, everyone
yells! Last Sunday morning word filtered down that our brigade would lose
40 houses because we did not need them. According to the mayor we had 790
fewer soldiers than we had houses for. Thus they would be taking a few
back, including the 9 newly renovated ones and 10 that we already had
soldiers living in. "Oh the agony, the pain, the injustice" is how I would
have expected my former 15 year old students to have reacted. Adults
organized into groups, however, don't act much differently. "It's because
we are reserve and the mayor is National Guard; it's because we are from
Ohio and the mayor is from New York; it's because that damn XO is too lazy
to fight for us"! I could just hear all that and more while I read the
garrison commanders email. So I began to prepare my opening salvo in my
newest battle of my bureaucratic war. The weapons of choice, accurate
information presented in a clear and understandable way, facts to challenge
my opponents assumptions, great speed in refuting the mayors conclusion that
this was the only way to resolve the matter, and counter-fire "why us, what
about those other guys from that other unit over there". I even painted
them a word picture (see attached).

The next day we had our day in court. A note for any aspiring or current
attorneys, it doesn't bode well when the judge announces her decision BEFORE
you argue your case. We got to keep the 10 we already lived in, but the new
ones were not to be ours, ("You thought they were yours? Who told you
that?).

Now the moral of the story depends on the listener. But here in the 983rd
it went down remarkably easy. No conspiracy theories, just a little extra
cynicism, and all of us are now out of tents and have a locker to store our
clothes. The brand spanking new houses have so far housed the high ranking
distinguished visitors that we receive periodically. And like Papa says,
"don't own the expensive boat, make friends with the guy who owns the
expensive boat"!

Hoping all is well with all of you,
Chris
 

2/26/2005      Once again, the alums came through! Thanks to Brendan Delaney 96, Jess Lisjak 00, Jeremiah McKain 02 and Bill Ek 04 for providing the judge power needed to get us through state qualifiers! And Mark Milsop 85 was on call if needed!  There is just no way that we would have made it without these people.

 

2/13/2005  North Hills would not have had the 18 NC competitors if it had not been for the generous help of three very dedicated alums! Many thanks to Ian McMeans 04, Jess Lisjak 00 and Brendan Delaney 96 who spent Friday evening and all day Saturday judging debate rounds for NC competitors. Another alum was spotted at the tournament – Jeremiah McKain 03 – but he was judging for another school!  That’s ok – he promises to help us out at state quals in two weeks.

 

2/6/05 Once again, local alumni come through to help with judging! Thanks to Brendan Delaney 96 for his help with judging policy debate at the Bethel Park tournament! (The team of Montelongo and Boehm took 3rd place!)

 

2/4/05 The following is an email that I received from Chris Dziubek 85. I asked him for permission to publish this, given the nature of the material. I hope that you read and appreciate his thoughts, just as I did…

I wrote the following note on 24 January, 2005 but have only now made the time to send it.  I have now arrived in Iraq and am settling into my duties.  Life is good for now, all of my basic needs are met.  I will write more about my trip into Iraq and events here in the next few days.

 

 

Hello everyone,

 

It’s a rainy Saturday afternoon in the desert of Kuwait and I find myself with nothing to do for the first time in a long while.  I am sitting at my laptop in a dimly lit, leaking canvas tent with a dozen other soldiers from different battalions who are in the same situation as I am.  We are described as “trail party” for our respective battalions and it is our lot to do all the administrative coordination to send our soldiers and equipment north into Iraq.  We are the last to leave Kuwait, and although we do not know each other all that well, we have the bond of shared experience.

 

My battalion, the 983rd Engineer Combat Battalion (Heavy), is just about finished here in Kuwait.  80% of our soldiers and 50% of our equipment is now in a Forward Operating Base (FOB) called Speicher.  It used to be an Iraqi air base but the Army changed its name in 2003.  The base is named after Lieutenant Commander Scott Speicher, a naval aviator whose plane was shot down on the first night of Desert Storm in January of 1991.  In 2002 the Navy changed his official status from KIA to MIA in recognition of mounting evidence that he did not die when he was shot down.  His friends have been carrying the torch to find him and if you are interested in reading more you can visit http://www.freescottspeicher.com/

 

Our time in Kuwait was spent in a U.S. Army camp in the northern desert near the Iraqi border.  Many of us have joked that with each step closer to our ultimate destination at FOB Speicher the quality of life has improved.  In Camp Atterbury, IN we slept 100 to a room on bunk beds, ate the same menu everyday for breakfast and lunch, and walked everywhere that we needed to go.  Since arriving in Kuwait we have slept 72 to a tent on single cots (more floor space), the food is better in quality, quantity, and selection, and we get our own private porta potty for the duration of our particular need, and we walk everywhere that we need to go.  Those members of the battalion who have already arrived at FOB Speicher have enjoyed hot showers, food that is even better than Kuwait, the use of our own vehicles, a room in a house or apartment building to live in with approximately 4 soldiers per room, flushing toilets, a gym nearby that is equipped with cardio and strength machines, greater access to the internet and telephones for every soldier, and the promise of not having to move your stuff for more than a few weeks!

 

While in Kuwait our primary activity was to unload the 3 U.S. Navy cargo ships that brought our equipment from a port in Texas, and then armor our vehicles with plate steel that we cut into the proper shapes.  If you have been reading the newspapers you know the sensitivity of this issue of vehicle armor.  The short of it is that the Army has chosen to use HMMWVs instead of tanks due to the kind of enemy that we face here.  The enemy has used roadside bombs; we call them “Improvised Explosive Devices” (IEDs), very effectively.  In order to defeat these IEDs we are armoring our HMMWVs and trucks.  The Army has three types of armored HMMWVs; one that rolls off of the assembly lines fully armored from all angles and built to accommodate the heavier weight (Level 1), one whose armor comes delivered in a box and soldiers install it (Level 2), and finally one where the soldier takes 4 x 8 ft sheets of steel, cuts them into the proper shapes, then welds or bolts them onto the HMMWV (Level 3, or as we like to call it “Mad Max” armor, after the movies with Mel Gibson and Tina Turner).  We in the 983rd have more trucks than HMMWVs.  We have tractor trailers, dump trucks, tow trucks (we call them wreckers), and other types of trucks that you would associate with construction equipment (cement mixers, asphalt spreaders, water distributors, etc).  Unfortunately the Army does not make any Level 1 or Level 2 armor for most of our trucks.  As a result our welders created some outstanding designs and provided the best protection we could for our soldiers who drove those trucks to Iraq.  I am surprised that the Discovery Channel or TLC hasn’t created a show to detail what soldiers like ours have been doing!  Once in Iraq we will receive Level 2 armor for all of our HMMWVs and some Level 1 armored HMMWVs as well.  

 

I have been in very few “ideal” situations in my life and this is certainly not one of them.  What is neat to see is the attitude of all the soldiers around me.  It is one of the things that attracted me back to military service.  Rather than focusing on what we do not have, those around me have made the situation we are in better!  As a group I believe that soldiers are some of the most resilient, “can do” people on earth!

 

Thanks for all your support and encouragement.  

 

Love,

Chris

 

______________________________________
MAJ Chris Dziubek
Executive Officer
983rd Engineer Combat Battalion (H)
Mail care of:
MAJ Chris Dziubek

HSC, 983rd ECB(H), ENG BDE, 42 ID(Forward)

Operation OIF, FOB SPEICHER

APO AE 09393

Email: chris.dziubek@us.army.mil
SIPRNET: chris.dziubek@us.army.smil.mil

2/3/05 – Word comes to us from the south that Justin Mahood has been accepted as a member of Duke’s debate team! Just another step closer…

1/29/05 – Alums continue to help out!  Thanks to Bill Eck 04 and Ian McMeans 04 for judging at the Mercer tournament!  Derek Davison 93, we missed you!

1/15/05 – Matt Lenns 03 judged Public Forum at North Allegheny – not bad for a former duo interper!

1/14/05 - Two current lawyers and former policy debaters attend the same NC basketball game! (NC vs. Wilkinsburg)  Nice to see Brendan Delaney '96 and Sandra Kozlowski '93.  (NC won the game - see what alumni support can do!)