The U.S. mission in Iraq is no longer about that country's eponymous freedom, but the start of a new day. What do you make of the change? // MC3 Daniel Barker / Navy

If you’re heading out to the sandbox as an individual augmentee, or your ship is going to be up in the Persian Gulf supporting operations in Iraq, you’ve got to get in as many references as you can to “Operation Iraqi Freedom,” because that’s going away. Oh-Eye-Eff, as we colloquially say, will become Oh-Enn-Dee — “Operation New Dawn,” effective Sept. 1.

This change, announced Thursday, has prompted many discussions here at the Center of Excellence about good and bad names for operations throughout history. Sometimes an operation can be good — as in the Navy’s response to the disaster in Haiti — but the name (”Operation United Response“) … meh. Sometimes a mission can be awesome, as in the Allied invasion of Europe, and its name — Operation Overlord — can be the last perfect touch that really makes it sing.

Wikipedia has a pretty comprehensive list of operation names over the years. What are your favorites? And what do you think of “New Dawn?”

The 1944 explosion at Port Chicago, Calif., destroyed two cargo ships and much of the surrounding port and naval base // NavHistHerCom

From our colleagues up in The Show comes an interesting story about a piece of naval history finally recognized: This fall, the Port Chicago Naval Magazine National Memorial became a full-fledged member of the National Park System, meaning park rangers, more funding, and the whole treatment for the site of the Navy’s worst home-front disaster.

Port Chicago, Calif., was the site of a naval depot in World War II, where, because of the military’s segregationist policies, many of the cargo handlers and workers were black, supervised by white officers. On July 17, 1944, the port, two cargo ships, and much of the town were devastated by a massive explosion — felt as far away as Nevada — when something touched off the ordnance. Three hundred twenty people were killed, most of them black sailors, and when black survivors were ordered to start work again loading more ships, they refused, saying it was too unsafe. The incident showed the U.S. the ugliness of segregation in the military, which ended, by order of President Truman, in 1948.

This account of the disaster is pretty comprehensive, as is this Web site dedicated specifically to the victims and survivors. Be advised, though: If you’re on the West Coast and you’d like to see the site, you need to make an appointment.

Ships' libraries could add a novel by a Navy author, who wrote after hours during an IA stint this year in Djibouti // PH2 Kurtis Korwan / Navy

If serving ashore as an individual augmentee is going to stay a reality of sailor life for a long time to come — which is what service officials keep saying — here’s a good example of how to make the best of it: IT2 Angela Bryant, of the carrier Carl Vinson, was sent to Djibouti on an IA assignment this year. The multinational base there, Camp Lemonier, is one of the hottest and smelliest places in the world, but did that bother Bryant? No. She used her time on the Horn of Africa to write a book:

“I started writing when I was 15 for the fun of it,” said Bryant. “I wanted to become a writer to put more realistic books out there. There were variety of books I wanted to read out on bookshelves, and I didn’t see them out.”
As an IA, Bryant worked during the day and wrote four to five hours at night.
“You really don’t have the time, but I tried to allot a time,” said Bryant. “I love writing. It’s a passion and a hobby for me and to see my book published and on the shelves, it’s an accomplishment for me.”
Publishing the book was a long process for Bryant. She designed the cover, layout and pictures. Once the first draft was complete, she found a publishing company that bound and published the book, which is now available online.

You can check out Bryant’s self-published novel, “Love’s Triangle,” here, and even read an excerpt for free.

MC1 Matthew Bash / Navy

Explosive Ordnance Disposal Technician 2nd Class Edwin Sharpe has come up with an elegant solution to a problem that has plagued military rear ends since 1957, when the C-130 Hercules made its debut with the U.S. military. Sure, it’s a useful aircraft, but it can be less than… ah… comfortable to sit on a mesh seat for extended rides. Sharpe’s answer is to lie on mesh instead — in his hammock.

Sharpe was part of a team from Mobile Diving and Salvage Unit 2 traveling to, of all things, a diving assignment in Afghanistan. He, his shipmates and U.S. soldiers were assigned to recover the body of U.S. Army Sgt. Brandon Islip in the Bala Murgahab River.

Could more sailors -- like these Seabees arriving in Helmand Province last winter -- be bound for Afghanistan? // MC2 Michael B. Lavender / Navy

At first blush, it might not seem like the Navy would be much affected by President Obama’s announcement last night that he is sending 30,000 more troops to land-locked Afghanistan by next year. But there are thousands of mountain sailors across Afghanistan, and it seems likely that more could begin deploying there as part of the president’s surge.

In addition to the corpsmen and chaplains assigned to Marine units, Navy individual augmentees work in provincial reconstruction teams; Navy explosive ordnance disposal technicians help get rid of bombs; Seabees build the bases where U.S. troops live. The sailors in Afghanistan come from all over the fleet: In August, Scoop Deck met the former executive officer of the ballistic missile submarine Louisiana, Cmdr. Tim Cauthen, running the show in Paktika Province. One of his officers, Lt. Christine Fix, a helicopter pilot borrowed from Helicopter Anti-Submarine Squadron 49, the “Scorpions,” had been blown up not once, but twice, by roadside bombs while riding in Mine-Resistant, Ambush Protected vehicles.

“I had a couple of bruises but it was not too bad,” she shrugged.

And last month Scoop Deck had the privilege of meeting another officer with experience in Afghanistan, Lt. Cmdr. James Patton, a reservist from Indianapolis, who described his time helping with civil affairs outside Kandahar in 2006. Patton’s story summed up one of the many unexpected challenges that U.S. forces face in training up Afghan soldiers and police to take over for Americans: Banking.

Patton’s job was to help an Afghan National Army unit disburse pay to its soldiers, he said, and assess how well American money was being used to help support the new army units. But the number of Afghan soldiers who showed up on a given day to drill with their colleagues could fluctuate widely, he said, although there was always a very strong turnout on payday. Then, many soldiers would disappear.

At first, Patton was mystified. Then he realized what was going on: Many Afghan soldiers drilling near Kandahar actually were from the country’s northern provinces, and they were the sole breadwinners for their extended families. With no reliable way for them to transfer money from where they’d earned it to where their families were living, the Afghan troops had to make their way back home to give their families their pay, then would return to their post near Kandahar in time for their next payday. The army made no allowance for this kind of travel — technically the troops who did this were UA, or on an “unauthorized absence,” in Navy parlance — but still they were permitted to keep serving.

“There was very little retribution,” Patton said.

So if, as Obama said, a main goal of the U.S. surge is to put Afghanistan’s security in the hands of its indigenous army and police, an early thing to figure out will be how to keep them paid and keep them in place.

MC2 Paul Williams/ Navy

If you’ve ever wondered whether the referee in an important hockey game was dropping the puck just a little on the other guys’ side to give them an edge, here’s the solution.

Rear Adm. Walter Carter, captain of the carrier Carl Vinson’s hockey team, and Navy explosive ordnance disposal technician Lt. Bob Pizzini waited for a Navy EOD robot to drop the puck Aug. 29 and start a charity hockey game in Chesapeake, Va. Presumably it landed dead-center, with digital precision.

When the robots can tear themselves away from the demands of the amateur hockey season, they can also be used to investigate and disarm explosives.

BU3 Adrian Trollip, of NMCB 5, worked on a roof at Camp Leatherneck, Afghanistan May 13 // Cpl. Aaron Rooks/ Marine Corps

As Scoop Deck learned during a recent visit to the U.S. Central Command area of responsibility, you can’t swing a reporter’s notebook when you’re downrange without hitting Seabees at work on projects for the war effort. They were at Camp Eggers, in Kabul, Afghanistan; they were at Camp Leatherneck; and at Kandahar Air Field, putting up their trademark wooden buildings in record time. A tour of the Seabees’ new U.S. forces building in Kandahar was especially pleasant; even though it was unfinished, its air conditioning provided an oasis from the heat and the wafting aroma from KAF’s infamous “poop pond.”

So it was great to hear about some other new construction taking place in the Seabee world: Workers broke ground this week on a new home for the Seabee Museum outside Naval Base Ventura County, Calif., the Navy announced. And not that the wooden clubhouse-style buildings at Camp Leatherneck weren’t nice, but the designs for the new Seabee Museum make it look especially luxurious.

PhilStacey.com

Back in the day, long before there was a Scoop Deck or anybody knew what Twitter was, NavyTimes.com was the place to go for some of the Web’s hardest-hitting coverage of “American Idol.” Why? One of 2007’s final contestants was a sailor, MU3 Phil Stacey, and NavyTimes.com readers followed his implausible rise from Naval Air Station Jacksonville, Fla., to the pinnacle of television stardom.

We got to wondering about what Phil was up to these days, and the answer was only a simple Google search away: He’s got a new album coming out! “Into the Light” will be on shelves Aug. 25, and you may have already heard the single, “You’re Not Shaken,”  in the lobby at your dentist’s office. Phil’s Web site has a wealth of information and media, and includes his comments about the news this month that “Idol” judge Paula Abdul won’t return next season:

As busy of a schedule as she had, Ms. Paula took time every week to visit with us, bringing gifts from her jewelry line with messages imprinted on them that were meant to encourage us on during that crazy time. If there were children visiting the American Idol studio, she wanted to meet them, take pictures with them, and give them each a gift of their own. She’s a very special kind of person.

Roger that.

The Australian uniforms here are in a “99 Luftbaloons”-pattern, with gray and brown spheres over a tan background, as though a huge balloon release had taken place in the area just out of the picture, under the soldier’s feet. Some of our U.K. friends wear red feathers in their berets. And there are a few nations that have sent troops in uniforms that include comically short pants. We’re all super-joint, 21st century warfighters, of course, so nobody blanches at all the international flavour on this base.

And there’s a broader theme at work here in Afghanistan, beyond the difference between the U.S. and international uniforms. Unlike Americans, European commanders acknowledge that troops want to enjoy their free time, and the international bases we’ve seen in Afghanistan reflect that philosophy. On Saturday, for an interview with Rear Adm. Greg Smith, ISAF’s top spokesman, he and I sat in a charming, shaded beer garden across the street from ISAF Headquarters in Kabul. The fountains gurgled and the tall pines sighed in the mountain breeze — Kabul is above 6,000 feet, I learned, which keeps it much cooler than the rest of the country. Dutch soldiers enjoyed cigars at a table near us. It was a highly civilized place to relax, and there is nothing like it at the U.S. posts we’ve visited. In the American military, if you aren’t working or fighting, you’d better be sleeping, or we’ll find something for you to do, shipmate.

Kandahar has an even bigger and more elaborate area for social life: A long, square boardwalk, which surrounds volleyball courts, tables and even a hockey rink, and includes shops and cafes on the outer edge. The boardwalk is shaded against the punishing Afghan sun and you can sit in the heat, as I did, trying to connect to the sluggish wireless network.

Women walked past in casual, hot-weather vacation attire — flirty-slogan t-shirts and shorts, or capri pants — wearing their pistols, as is required for service members here. A group of British soldiers in their tiger-stripe uniforms sat listening to Premier League soccer on the radio. Canadian troops ran into the hockey rink, dressed with full pads and gear, for a pick-up game with a ball for a puck. After dark, the boardwalk area became a crowded junior-high mixer, where British soldiers flirted with U.S. air-women and a lonely female voice floated from a U.S. Army karaoke party, singing Bonnie Rait’s “I Can’t Make You Love Me.” The convivial din was broken often by the peal of fighter jets taking off nearby.

Our experience in the “Luxemborg” chow hall was just as flavourful — literally — where I enjoyed the curried pork vindaloo with byriani and a green salad with fresh feta. German bier wurst was available at the salad bar, or one could take the salmon quiche, naturally. Apparently European service members don’t like frozen novelties, however, because there was no freezer full of ice cream sandwiches, as in Iraq. One tries one’s best to manage in these situations.

Mabus’ visits to the Ministry of Defense and the new U.S. embassy were coordinated in part by the Army, which provided our latest exposure to the magic of jointness in today’s military. Our Army guys, or “soldiers,” as they’re called, were extremely competent, professional and courteous, and they explained they belong to a military force that operates on land, using infantry, armored vehicles and aircraft. Kind of like the Navy, but not for the ocean. Neat, I thought.

We had a little time to hang out with the Army guys as we waited for Mabus, and I learned that in the Army, a head – or restroom – is called a “latrine,” even if it’s indoors, improved, has running water, etc. I also learned that when soldiers “secure” something, they take charge of it, e.g. if a soldier is ordered to secure a rifle, she picks it up and makes sure it’s ready to use. In the Navy, sailors are ordered to “secure” from a state of readiness, as in stand down, such as when the crew secures from flight quarters. Army guys also say “hua,” or “hew,” instead of the Marines’ “ur-ugh” or “oo-rah.”  Navy guys say, “where’d Chief go?”

The camp’s black flag flies almost every day, indicating that temperatures are considered too high for exercise outside in the murderous African sun. But the smog from the trash fires is so thick and so close that it ruins the experience of jogging after hours on the base’s track. My senior colleague Kelly Kennedy has written about this problem in Iraq, but I was surprised to discover it was an issue here on the Horn of Africa – different, to be sure, because the fumes here don’t come from U.S. military burn pits, but the potentially deleterious effects are all the same.

It helps that most of the billeting I’ve seen are double-stacked trailer rooms, set up on the base’s gravel footprint like city apartment blocks. My quarters for tonight has two  fluorescent bulbs and a Formica floor that make it feel like staying in the dressing room of a Family Dollar. But there’s a window air conditioner unit to keep out most of the pollution, and either the base or this room’s previous occupant helpfully left a fly-swatter that I’ve already put to good use.

It was dark on the Horn of Africa by the time we landed, so what we saw of the base and Djibouti City were moonscapes illuminated by a haphazard constellation of orange sodium lights. After piling into the SUVs we snaked through the caterpillar warren of concrete barriers to exit Camp Lemonier, then peeled out toward the city, which looked to this first-time visitor like the suburb of a larger city that just never appears. We passed container ship loading docks; the luxe Hotel Kempinski, which sprawls like a shiek’s oasis behind walls and palm groves; and ubiquitous groups of men taking it easy on plastic patio furniture, set up on street corners and even in the traffic islands.

We also passed what sailors at Camp Lemonier call “the Djibouti Disneyland,” a battered old amusement park – shades of “Something Wicked This Way Comes” – with attractions in a condition that would make your county fair ride inspector woozy. There is a big plastic boat inside the faded gates with an image of a character that looks suspiciously like Mickey Mouse, said Storekeeper 1^st Class (AW) Steve Archer, our driver, and another public domain duck in a sailor suit, hence the park’s nickname. We passed Djibouti City’s bowling alley, which had a single neon star display that made it look like the Caesar’s Palace of its neighborhood, and Archer explained that its bowling pins were held up by strings.

“Plus they’ve got a go-kart track behind there,” he said later. “Now that was an experience.”

Lt. Allen Owens, who was also in my vehicle, described another attraction that we didn’t see on our driving tour. Although Owens said he has never been himself, he’s heard stories about a golf course out in the desert – all sand, naturally — where the caddies follow you around with a single piece of turf, which they’ll lay down helpfully for you to tee up your ball. Then you take your swing, advance to the point where the ball landed, and the caddy lifts up the grass from your earlier point and sets it down for your approach to the hole. He didn’t say which parts of the course were the sand traps.

It’s advisable to play in the morning, Owens said, because at noon the khat plane lands, and many Djiboutians leave work to get their fix on Khat Korner. (That’s my fanciful “k” on “korner;” I don’t have an Associated Press-approved style for the name at my fingertips.)

“When the plane lands, they’ll all go running,” Archer said.

The khat plane from Ethiopia lands at noon every day, and local suppliers get their daily allotment, which they turn around and sell to other distributors, and on down to Djoe Djiboutian, standing in line at the korner.

After tearing around the city in our three-vehicle convoy, Mabus never was able to get out to see any sights, and he said after we returned to the base that he hadn’t shot a single picture. The security team worried about him spending too much time outside the wire.

U.S. Navy

Scoop Deck has been told by friends in the Navy that duty in Italy is widely popular. The food and lifestyle is often fondly recalled. But according to this report there are unseen hazards for those posted in Naples.