Notes of Joy and Sadness
By Jamie Glazov
FrontPageMagazine.com | May 17, 2006
Frontpage Interview’s guest today is Major Steven Givler, a career intelligence officer in the United States Air Force. He has flown more than 30 combat and combat support sorties in surveillance aircraft in support of the war on terror, and has traveled the length and breadth of Iraq on the ground. Givler has traveled extensively in North Africa and the Middle East, and once spent two months alone, crossing the Egyptian Sahara by bicycle. He is the author of the new book Notes of Joy and Sadness, Letters and Paintings from Operation Iraqi Freedom -- a collection of his letters and paintings that detail his two deployments to the Persian Gulf. (To see some paintings from the book click here)
FP: Major Steven Givler, welcome to Frontpage Interview.
Givler: Thanks for inviting me.
FP: Tell us what brought you to put this collection together.
Givler: When I unpacked at my first deployment, I found a set of water colors and a note from my wife, Susan. She wrote, "you'll probably be getting into trouble when you're not flying if you don't have anything to do. Give this a try."
I started painting local landscapes and mailing them home to her. At the same time, I was sending home letters about what I was seeing. Both the painting and the writing started out as pass-times, really, but in a short time they evolved into ways of making sense of things, putting them into a logical sequence. It got so that I couldn't sleep until I'd written home about the day's events or painted something I'd seen.
I'd do about a dozen paintings and mail them home to my wife, and she'd write back with very good constructive criticism; she's the real painter in the family. She'd also send back good brushes and paper, and when I got a hold of those things I really started enjoying painting.
I was sending emails to a pretty small number of people, but I started hearing from complete strangers to whom my emails had been forwarded, and their kind words really touched me. So many of them wrote to say that they were praying for the troops, that they believed in what we were doing, and that they were thankful for emails like mine that gave them a glimpse of what things were like for us. Those notes meant an awful lot to me.
One of them in particular was from a writer named Jayne Jaudon-Ferrer, who said that when I got home we needed to talk about writing. She connected me to her publisher and that's how I ended up with a book. I'm lucky in that the Air Force Public Affairs office was very positive about it, and approved the publication.
FP: Tell us your thoughts on our troops, what they are doing, and the magic it takes to illustrate what things are like for you/them.
Givler: On my first deployment I flew 31 sorties as a crew member on a surveillance aircraft. Most of the flights were quite long - well over 10 hours - and often, at a moment's notice, we went from mind-numbing boredom to being so busy it seemed we barely had time to breath. The thing that always amazed me was that, when things were at their most stressful, everyone was at their absolute best. There was no delineation of my job - your job; everybody did what needed to be done in order to complete our mission.
I remember at one point, when we'd been working at a fever pitch for hours on end, our pilot came down and handed out cokes and bottled water. (The co-pilot was flying the jet.) That's not part of his job description, but he played flight attendant gladly because that's the way we get the mission done. People made sacrifices all the time, and put personal issues aside in order to work together more effectively.
I was thinking about that one morning as we were flying home. It had been our longest and most difficult sortie yet - we'd been supporting ground troops all night long who had been under fire, and some of them died while we were trying to help them - I was wondering what enabled us to keep it together, and to work more closely together than I would ever have thought possible. Training is certainly part of the answer, but the biggest part, I believe, is love. Our love for our nation and what it represents, our love for each other, and for the men and women we were supporting - love is the only thing that makes people willing to sacrifice for each other. I remember flying home as the sun was rising over the desert, thinking how odd it was that in the middle of a war, love was what motivated us.
I saw the same thing over and over again. On my second deployment I was able to get into Iraq on the ground, instead of flying over it all the time, and I spent some time working with soldiers and Marines. I got stranded in Taqadam with a bunch of young Marines who'd been wounded in Falujah, received treatment, and were doing everything they could to get themselves back to their units so that their buddies would not be shorthanded. Those were great young men, and I was proud to be with them. I think people probably assume that wars are fueled by hate, but from what I've seen, love is what motivates our people.
These things are hard to get across to those who haven't experienced them, and many times, I wrote home worried that nobody would understand what I was talking about. But people seemed to understand. I think these themes resonate with Americans. I think that, even as far as we have gotten from our roots, there's still enough of the Founding Fathers' America in us that we understand and admire sacrificing for others, sacrificing for freedom. Maybe that's why I came home feeling so profoundly changed, because I'd caught a glimpse of that kind of selflessness, and once you've seen it - once you've served with kids half your age to whom you've entrusted your life without a second thought - I don't think you can help but be affected by it.
That really became a major reason for writing this book. Having seen such heights of performance and sacrifice, I was worried that I would get back to my daily life and forget about them. I didn't want to forget what I had seen, so I started writing about it.
FP: Your words profoundly touch the human heart. Tell us about the paintings.
Givler: The paintings are a different story. Most of them are landscapes. I've been traveling to the Middle East and North Africa since the 80's, and for me, there has always been something evocative about the desert. It became a real challenge to present it as I saw it - dusty palm trees, dust clouds catching the sunset, our tents, and our equipment.
The painting on the cover of the book is called Morning in Paradise. In the painting two Humvees are driving along a canal; the water reflects their images and those of palm trees that line the road. A blackhawk helicopter is above them, in the distance. It's a moment of serenity and beauty, but you know that the blackhawk is there to provide cover for the ground vehicles. You know that the calm surface of the water is deceptive.
That's what I tried to convey with my paintings. They're more than just images of places, or people, or equipment. They are places fraught with danger. They are people who have been or may shortly be in battle. And the equipment is the tools of their trade.
FP: Can you talk a bit about interactions with coalition forces?
Givler: On my second deployment I got to talk to representatives of over a dozen coalition nations. This came as a shock to me, because, as you know, our actions in Iraq are "unilateral." I was talking to a Japanese C-130 pilot, and I told him we were thanful for his nation's support. He said, "Oh no, we are honored to be participating." That didn't sound to me like a member of, how did the press put it, "the coalition of the bribed?"
On another occasion I had dinner with a Ukrainian officer in Baghdad. This was during the time that they were contesting the results of their election and there were massive demonstrations going on in the Ukraine. You may remember that the press was treating it as if democracy had failed. I asked my colleague what he thought. He said, "We understand that democracy involves a certain amount of disagreement. It looks to us, not as if democracy is failing, but as if democracy is working. In the old days there would not have been any disagreement. Or, if there had been disagreement, the military would have been called in to silence it. But look, we have peaceful demonstrations, and the military is not being asked to stop them. We don't see what all the fuss is about. This is democracy in action."
In the book I mention some of the time I spent with members of the Australian Air Force - some of the warmest, friendliest people I've ever met, despite the fact that I couldn't understand a word they said to me.
The most important moment I spent with foreign forces though, was the time I had lunch with members of the Iraqi National Guard. They were eating at a chow hall near Camp Victory, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to talk with them. I asked them what they thought about the fact that merely by putting on their uniforms, they made targets of themselves and their families. They told me without hesitation that they were willing to give their lives if it meant that Iraq would be free. That was an important moment for me. Prior to that time I had known we could win militarily, but I didn't know what would come next. After that conversation though, I realized that they got it, that they understand what the stakes are, and that they are fully invested in forging a free country. I left that meal more encouraged than I had been in a long time.
FP: Kindly shed some light for us on your, and other troops’, experiences with loneliness, what it means to leave your families for extended periods.
Givler: You know, I've had to think about that a lot - about leaving my family - because our kids are young, and they grow so quickly while I'm gone. Sometime during my first deployment my daughter started walking and my son went from one and two word sentences to paragraphs when we got to talk on the phone. Leaving them is tough, and leaving Susan with all the added responsibilities is tough, but the only thing I can imagine that would be worse would be failing to deal with this threat now, so that my children have to face it later on.
I worry some times about not being a good father because this job takes me away so often, but in the end it comes down to the fact that I know I'm making a long-term investment here. I'm sacrificing some of my time with my family for the present in order to secure their future, and I have to believe they understand that.
Loneliness is a tough part of the job, but we work hard, and we work long hours; often, there's just not time for it. Also, and I suppose this may sound strange, but there were times, one time in particular when I was stranded in Baghdad, and couldn't get where I needed to go. I was tired and frustrated, and the conditions were perfect for me to start feeling lonely and sorry for myself - here's the strange part - I was walking to my quarters and I was thinking about how far away my family was, and right at that moment I was absolutely certain that someone was praying for me. There was no other way I could explain the feeling that came over me. I felt at peace.
And I should mention something else while we're talking about loneliness, and about prayer. The chaplains who are over there serving our troops are the most tireless, selfless ones of all. Those guys are always there for the troops, always visiting them where they work, making them cookies, praying for them, keeping them grounded. You don't hear very much about our chaplain corps, but those guys are essential to what we do.
FP: In the midst of suffering, loneliness and tragedy, sometimes there are humorous moments. Can you share one with us?
Givler: When the ground war began, mine was the first of our crews to fly into Iraqi airspace. We were a little nervous about that, especially since the ground advance was happening so rapidly that it was hard to know exactly how safe our airspace was. Before the war, you know, some Iraqi airspace was the most heavily defended airspace in the world, and that fact went through our minds more than a few times. It was probably on the co-pilot's mind when he took over the jet as the pilot headed to the galley. He hadn't been in control long at all before we all felt the jet lurch suddenly to the side. As soon as we'd picked up all our checklists and everything else that had fallen on the floor people were calling the flight deck to find out what was going on. That's when the co-pilot admitted that he had taken evasive action from what he called a PHCO - Potentially Hostile Celestial Object - which, from the corner of his eye, had appeared to be tracking our jet. That's how he earned himself the nickname "Moon".
FP: What is this war in Iraq about? Are you optimistic we will win? What do we need to do to prevail?
Givler: Even though the definition of "win" is constantly being changed, I am confident that we can win. People were telling us in March of '03, while we were waiting on the border that there was no way we could beat the Iraqi Army. They told us there was no way we could take Baghdad. Every time we achieved the impossible they just picked another objective and used it to define victory. But let's not lose sight of what has been accomplished. The fourth largest army in the world has ceased to be a threat to its neighbors and its own citizens. A man who presided over the rape of thousands of women and the hideous tortures of many others of his countrymen has been deposed, and neither he nor his sons will ever hurt anyone again.
Iraqis enjoy greater freedom and prosperity than they have in generations. Terrorists from half a dozen different nations are obligingly concentrating themselves in a few small towns, and our forces are killing them there, which is much better than our families having to face them over here. I'm optimistic that we will win because of all these things that we've accomplished. I'm optimistic that, unless we are prevented from doing so by people who've lost the will to defend our nation, we will stay the course long enough for the Iraqis to take control of a new, free nation, and when they do that, the Persian Gulf, the Middle East - will never be the same because freedom is contagious.
FP: Major Steven Givler, it was an honor to speak with you. Thank you kindly for the priceless contribution you have made to freedom and to this nation. Thank you for your beautiful letters and paintings.
Givler: Thank you very much for inviting me, and thank you for helping defend the principles that make our nation great. |
