"Done, sir, done!"

So it's been a busy week for me - not to offer any excuses - but I've had something on my mind over the past few days that really should have drawn everyone's attention. Of course, it went nearly unnoticed because everyone is trying to dig up more info on some hot chick that dominated the headlines last week, and we all watched the kickoff of the college football season.

Not very many people I've talked to realize that on September 1st, MNF-W (Multinational Forces - West) turned over provincial authority over al Anbar Province, the largest in Iraq, to Governor Ma'amoon at a ceremony in Ramadi.

Anbar is roughly the size of South Carolina. Early on during Operation Iraqi Freedom, the powers-that-be (powers-that-were?) tasked the Marine Corps with overall responsibility for the province. In 2004, I Marine Expeditionary Force from Camp Pendleton relieved the 82nd Airborne Division in that AO, starting the first of five back-to-back 12-14 month rotations between I MEF and II MEF, based here at Lejeune.

April of 2004 saw the first "siege" of Fallujah, which had become a hotbed of terrorist activity - the burning, mutilation, and hanging of four American contractors on Blackwater Bridge across the Euphrates helped trigger the initial buildup on the outskirts of the city. After surrounding the Fallujah, the Marines - let by then-Major General James Mattis and James Conway (our current Commandant) - were ordered to stand down and allow the Iraqis to return to their homes. Over the summer, many attempts to resolve the situation with tribal leaders ensued, to no avail. During one such leadership engagement, General Mattis was quoted as saying "I come in peace. I didn't bring artillery. But I'm pleading with you, with tears in my eyes: if you fuck with me I will kill you all."

In November of that year, the second siege of Fallujah ended with the Marines entering the city. After giving notice to all civilians and innocents to leave Fallujah, and inviting anyone who wanted to get some to stay and fight, six infantry battalions stormed in from the north, spending several weeks fighting door-to-door and clearing every inch of the city.

During November and December of 2004, many Marines were killed in Fallujah... as were several hundred terrorists, bandits, and insurgents. There are countless awe-inspiring stories of Marines who fought fiercely and selflessly, giving their utmost to protect each other and carry on with their mission. One Marine in particular showed us that even after being shot eight or nine times, getting hammered by a grenade or two is not a big deal if it means protecting one of your Marines so they can make it home. It's even better when you're able to kill a few of the assholes who wanted you dead.

In 2005, I was in Ramadi, at a small camp on the Euphrates just outside the city. Across the river, I could see the even smaller, dingy little "base" where 1st Bn., 5th Marines (1/5) and later 3/7 would each do their third combat deployment as a Battalion. My camp took incoming rockets (usually the 122mm Katyushas) and mortars on about 70 or 80 different occasions in eleven months - once or twice even killing Marines from my unit. In June, a convoy of female watchstanders who had been sent to Fallujah for a month of duty was attacked by a suicide bomber. The resulting explosion was catastrophic, killing almost all of them. We had snipers working the oustskirts of our camp constantly, and a Sergeant friend of mine was shot in the face by the driver of a BOLO (be on the lookout) vehicle - and of course, his patrol later nailed that guy, with the young Sergeant leading the way in his bloody mess of a flak jacket.

Fast-forward to 2007. I made my second trip to al Anbar, knowing that things would be different from my first visit. I was eventually pushed up to Haditha, where in November of '05 there had been a running firefight during which Marines had allegedly killed innocent civilians. The incident didn't fully come to light (i.e., the media didn't catch wind of it) until April of 2006. I wasn't sure how things would be when I arrived in Haditha in late April of 2007, but I was pretty sure that grudges were being held.

During my first foot patrol through the city with 1/3, it was a pleasant, sunny summer's day, with temps hitting 110 or so before noon. And even though I tried to be as mentally prepared for anything as possible, I totally did not expect the squad leader to halt the patrol in the middle of the souk, set half the squad in 360-degree security, and let the other half go into a shop to get some shade and ice cream cones.

That was just the beginning, though. During 2007, I sustained my supply of comfort items (cigarettes, snacks, soft drinks, etc.) mainly by halting while on patrol and going into the shops along the way, using Iraqi Dinar instead of dollars to get a better price on things that I wanted to buy. On nearly every patrol I went on, we would stroll up to the front door of someone's house, ask permission to enter, and then be served hot chai and snacks at a minimum; as often as not the man of the house would invite us to stay for lunch, discussing any issues or concerns he and his family had.

I was able to sit in on city council meetings in Haditha and Haqlaniya, and I could enter just about any major water treatment facility, police station, power plant, or gas station in the area and recognize some names & faces. People on the street or in their homes regularly thanked us for the security we were providing their city, and we had to keep reminding them that someday soon it would be the IA (Iraqi Army) and IPs (Police) protecting them. They grudgingly accepted the notion, but eventually started trusting their own forces to get the job done well enough.

To give another measure of success, 1/3 wound up being the first Marine infantry battalion to return home with no KIA or WIA over a 7-month OIF deployment. 3/23 followed suit during their subsequent deployment to AO Triad.

When I saw Governor Ma'amoon on the front page of the local paper last Monday, I was reminded of a conversation I'd had three or four times last year with city council members, contractors, and two or three other Iraqis that I like to think are my friends. We'd talk about the future of al Anbar, and they'd tell me "Meestah, you should come back in a year or two, and that we can sit here and eat lunch again. You can see the new water plant/railroad station/police station then, and it will be finish! Aloss!"

And each time, I told them "Oh, na'am - I will definitely come back here someday. And when I do, I won't have to wear all this armor and helmet and carry a gun. I can be a tourist, in shorts and a t-shirt, and I will be able to see your whole family here enjoying life."

Last Monday brought that day a lot closer, I think.

It also means that the Corps can pull our boys out of Anbar now, and start pushing them over to Afghanistan to wrap up that mission as well. 1/6 and 2/7 are there right now, and those boys have a reputation for finding a fight if there's nothing going on. They've found it there, and they're getting results.

I'll sure hate it if I miss the chance to go to Afghanistan completely. At the same time, though, I'm damn proud that we've finished our part in Iraq, and I know it's just a matter of time before we reach that critical tipping point in Afghanistan as well.

It'll be nice to see all the guys back home once we get that done.