At first there were seven or eight kids. I had them sit in a row on a concrete barrier and told them to stay put. The system was that I'd measure one child's foot, go to the truck to look for the correct size, and then return with one pair of shoes. Though it seemed easier to measure several kids and bring back a bunch of shoes I learned quickly that it didn't work at all. If I had a bundle with me they would get too excited and start grabbing at the pair in my hands that they liked best. I told the kids that they had to stay calm and quiet and that I'd be back with a pair for each of them. For about the first hour it worked out well. Some of my buddies were surprised I was able to keep them so calm and orderly. I gave Elmo another pair of white shoes with little charms dangling from them but she had her heart set on another pair. She absolutely had to have the high-top Shaquille O'Neal basketball shoes. Who was I to argue?

Before long the group of kids grew rapidly. More and more of them seemed to materialize out of the fields, and every time I turned around there was a new one pleading for shoes. It became difficult to keep them organized. Any semblance of a line had vanished long ago.

Nearly all of the soldiers I was with were busy doing other things. The only person helping me out at all was my roommate Cris, and even that didn't last long. He had a "traumatic experience," and left me to go it alone. I had given a tiny pair of pink shoes to a two-year-old little girl in a blue frilly dress. As she tottered around in her new shoes Cris asked the boy next to her if she was his sister. The boy replied "No sister," and lifted up the blue dress to reveal that the she was actually a he. After that Cris headed back to the trucks and I hardly saw him again. I didn't understand what the big deal was. Later he explained, "As soon as I saw the little
girl with the penis I had to get out of there." I try to explain to him that it makes more sense to think of it as a little boy in a dress, but he won't hear it.

After about an hour of running back and forth from the truck to the children I was getting exhausted. By this time there were probably thirty or more kids asking for shoes. What was making things really difficult was the number of adults following me around. Each man claimed to have at least ten kids at home that he needed shoes for and I had to explain every few minutes that I had only brought enough for the children that were there (and probably not even enough for all of them). And of course most of the older boys weren't being much help either. It didn't take long to realize that many of them would try and hide the pair I had given them and beg for more. The little girls sold them out quickly though, so I always had a pretty good idea who was trying to scam an extra pair.

After a few hours I was nearly out of time and almost completely out of the right size shoes for the remaining kids. Some of the older children (once again, mainly the teenage boys) were in a frenzy and were convinced that I was holding out on them. I had the interpreter (himself begging for shoes) and the Iraqi soldiers (also begging for shoes) explain that I'd be back in a few days with more for everyone. I gave out a bunch of random sizes and told them to give the shoes to their brothers and sisters or else they could trade them for the proper size when I returned. Then we beat a hasty retreat. As we drove away I felt completely worn out. Though it had
sometimes been difficult and frustrating I felt really good about the day. I regret that I wasn't able to please everyone but I did hand out more than fifty pairs of shoes. My friends, the kids that I see interact with most often, were very happy and grateful. Some of the girls would point to the new shoes on their feet and give me a thumbs-up and a big smile. As we drove away several of our kids ran alongside the truck laughing and waving goodbye. Elmo, with her new basketball shoes, ran alongside my window smiling.

Photo taken by Lt. Smith