I thought "How could this be, I don't know any Colonel Bishop, and I haven't been here long enough to have a Colonel Bishop mad at me." I said that I would just assume not meet any Col. Bishop just then, maybe later if that was okay?

"No, now is fine please."

"Well, I'm not dressed to meet the colonel right now, I'm filthy, un-showered and disheveled. Can you give me 30 minutes to make myself presentable?"

"No sir, you will be fine, the colonel will see you now."

Truth be told, I wasn't trying to get out of seeing the colonel because I was filthy, we had just completed a 15-hour day of filming, and I was exhausted and desired a cigar and some uninterrupted peace in the worst way. I was also just maybe a tiny bit scared of the colonel as well. I was afraid that, as the CO of the Civilian Military Affairs Battalion, he might have something to say about what I could and could not cover in the way of guns and gear. Sgt. Pitts set me at ease eventually. "Nothing to worry about" he said, "the colonel is a gun guy and writes for a bunch of your magazines, he is dying to meet you." With that a wave of relief came over me, and I grabbed a few desert color NRA members patches that I had made up as well as an NRA challenge coin the NRA's Secretary Maj. E. J. Land USMC (Ret.), had given me prior to my departure.

Col. Bishop was found in his map-laden office pouring over letters from local citizens and visibly transformed from the de facto mayor of Mosul to a fellow gunny as soon as he saw me step through his office door. We spoke for hours about Class III guns and some of the articles I remembered him authoring for various publications. It was just one more episode in being made to feel at home by some of our fellow members, a feeling that I was immensely appreciative of, as I had never been this far from home or safety in my entire life.

Continue reading...

Go to Page One

Following the lead of journalists I saw on television, I acquired a number of Desert Camouflage Uniforms for wear in country. I not only wanted to blend in but if I was successful in getting a publisher for a proposed book on guns, uniforms and equipment, I felt I needed to know how it held up and how well it wore. I had a number of nametapes made for my uniform pocket that said "NRA" and proudly sewed them on my new DCUs. After a few months of no word from the Army on my application, I changed them to "Press Corps" in hopes that I would not be pre-disposing myself to ill treatment. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

Just about everyone wears DCUs in Iraq, many of them with a dizzying array of differing nametapes above the left pocket. Names like "DOD CONTRACTOR, DOD CIVILIAN, TRIDENT, SAFETY OFFICER" and others abounded. On the days that I wore the one uniform that still had an "NRA" name tape affixed, I would get curious G.I.s approaching me with a disturbed look on their face and ask, "NRA?" and I would respond, "Yeah, the National Rifle Association of America, you may have heard of us, we are in all the papers." To which they often replied, "Wow cool. What are you all doing over here?" And if I felt that they would take it in the spirit intended I would say, "Well, we heard a serious rumor that you all might be fighting this war with guns and we were very interested in what kind of guns, how they were working and how they were holding up for you." Most would then get a huge smile and say, "I'm a member!" or "My dad's a member," and start telling me about their favorite gun whether it was the Ma Duce .50 mounted above their HMMWV's or their Winchester .270 they used for deer season back home. Membership, or just even appreciation of shared values, was enough to crack the most battle-hardened façade and begin a delightful conversation.

On days when I wore my "Press Corps" marked uniform, you would have thought that I had a communicable disease. I could go all day without being able to establish eye contact with someone who would allow me permission to photograph them. A few times, some brave soul would walk up and ask me for whom I was writing. They would say, "The NRA? For real?" When I affirmed the statement they would gather their buds and say, "It's OK, he's from the NRA," and all would be well again. One day of this treatment and I pulled off all those "Press Corps" tags and hand stitched the "NRA" ones back on!

I brought more than 100 brown and tan NRA members patches that I had made up, as well as a significant number of NRA Challenge Coins, gifts from Maj. Land. At every stop we made to film weapons systems or photograph a firing demonstration, I tried to give each and every soldier who participated a small token of our appreciation in the form of one of the patches or coins. It was amazing to see the joyful look of appreciation in many of their faces when they received these items. It was an incredible feeling to know that something so seemingly trivial could be so valued and appreciated. It truly was an honor and privilege to record their stories and spend a month among true patriots and heroes. I had no idea how much value these fine people placed on our tokens until my exit interview with Maj. Gen. David H. Petraeus the evening before I left.

During the course of our conversation-which centered on his sincere interest in my observations of their weapons systems and how they could be improved as well as my evaluations of what was performing well in the line of duty-I took the opportunity to present the general with one each of our patch and coin. He, in turn, from a pre-prepared station on his desk, presented me with his coin, and the Screaming Eagle patch of the 101st, which he said I had earned the privilege of now wearing on my right shoulder. Words could not adequately express my appreciation of that gesture, I am sure that I will not only spend the rest of my life in appreciation of those who served in Gulf War II, but I know that I will always try to live up to and earn to the honor the general bestowed upon me.

There have been many times in my 20-year career that some people have tried to make me ashamed to say whom I worked for, and they all have failed at that endeavor). This trip was one of my first forays into uncharted territory where I would wear my convictions literally on my sleeve for all to see. It was a sincere pleasure and an honor to have been so warmly received by members and non-members alike. God Bless them, every one.

Check out the photo gallery.

Go to Page One

Go to Page Two