Adventures in the Hill Country

If you’ve listened to NPR’s Star Date then you know it’s broadcast from the MacDonald Observatory in Texas. Located high in the Davis Mountains the road there is winding, full of switchbacks and up-hill all the way. You haven’t seen stars until you look at the sky on a moonless, cloudless night on an 8000 ft mountain in the middle of nowhere. World Class Astronomical Observatories that attract 1000’s of people get to dictate rules on light pollution to their neighbours. As the sky darkened the stars came out, the Milky Way became visible, and then even the interstellar cloud dust. It’s a mountaintop experience indeed and I was in heaven.

Next day I drove down to Marfa Airport and took to the skies. The place doesn’t look like much and if you blink you’ll miss the sign that points to what looks like just another farm gate. The dirt road that winds through dusty grass to a hangar. Everything is rather informal until Mrs. Burt arrives and takes your money and hands you the release forms. Climbing into the front seat of a glider is a delicate operation. Dual controls surround you, your feet on the rudder controls, your knees close to your chin, and the canopy when it is closed an inch from the top of your head. The tow rope is attached, the tow plane starts off and seconds later the glider is off the ground. At 1500 feet above the ground level the tow hook gets released and suddenly all is silence. Gliding at 40 knots the only sound one hears is the wash of air past the canopy. Below is a square mile of greenhouses growing tomatoes and in the distance the Davis Mountains. Suddenly we have a bird’s eye view of the world. My only regret is the fact that we didn’t fly over the mountains; we simply circled round the airport and then engaged the ground spoilers to force the plane to land. Getting unbuckled, the canopy up, and out again was equally challenging. Yes, I’d love to do it again but $112 for 20 minutes makes it an expensive thrill. See all about it here:

http://www.flygliders.com/marfa.htm

Is that plug enough for you Burt?

On Sunday I rode into town and attended Presbyterian Church. Pastor looked very different in his sober black robes and I got to hear the sermon he’d come in to print in his office the day before. In the afternoon I toured Fort Davis, or at least the tiny bit of it that has been restored. Reading the list of a trooper’s rations made me thankful for my own diet of fresh fruits, vegetables and meats. Touring the Fort involves miles of walking on Dusty compacted gravel amid adobe ruins that face the attack of time—the Fort was closed in 1891. Found a collegial friend in the person of Albert Garcia, one of the forts Parks Guides and the two of us talked shop.

On Martin Luther King Day I decided to attempt to cycle down to the Decert Cactus Research Centre and Botanical Garden. Three miles south of town I had a flat tire. It was a long frustrating walk back. After lunch I drove down and discovered the place 5 miles south of town and back a mile-long rocky gravel road. For $5 you get to spend three days looking at the largest collection of prickly plants you’re likely to ever see. The mile and a half long botanical walk leads past labelled succulents and desert tree, shrub, and flower species most of which were dormant and not flowering. The small greenhouse reminding me of the former Ben Veldhuis in Dundas.

On Inaugeration Day I headed for Alpine after visiting the Fort to pick up a Parks Pass--$80—and talk with Albert. Found the bike shop he recommended in Alpine, got gas next door at $1.79 until it opened and then walked up to Bread and Breakfast for Brunch while my tire was replaced. Recommended by two people it more than lived up to its hype. Grits, by the bye, reminded me of cream of wheat. Reclaimed my bike after finding an ATM to get cash and set off for Grand Bend National Park. The road East to Marathon went straight for 36 boring miles after I’d stopped to get my propane tank topped off. Once I headed south the road became more winding and eventually started gaining altitude. Stopping at the entrance gate visitors centre I got water and some guidebooks. Inside the park the route wound through desert hills that gave way to mountains in the distance. At one point a roadrunner crossed in front of me. I’d never seen one but that look was unmistakable even if there wasn’t a coyote after him. The park headquarters visitors centre has a large book collection and a scale representation of the entire park along with a nature walk I didn’t take.

Just getting to the Chisos Basin is an adventure all its own. The road leads up a series of challenging switchbacks that left me wandering just how the drivers got in with two forty-foot buses. The 15% grades put a strain on the engine and me. Topping the pass one heads down into a basin hemmed in by mountains on all sides. Save for a small break called the Window where water from the springs escapes there are mountains on all sides. Finding a campsite in an area where nothing is level was a challenge. Every site has a bear box for safe storage and a roofed picnic table and elevated grill. Fire is dangerous here and water scare. For once I didn’t bother to close my RV curtains. The mountains, the birds, the deer, watching darkness rise hours after the sun had disappeared behind a peak, and then the stars come out I didn’t want to miss anything.

Next morning I got a chance to see sunrise fall. Daylight came several hours before sun finally reached my RV at 10:00 AM. I minded the climb up to the visitors centre and store. Was it altitude sickness, my being out of shape, or just the thought of climbing 800 feet in half a mile. I arrived for the tail end of a talk on Bear Safety given by an old school Park Ranger who sported impeccably polished boots. His quart-sized canister of bear spray—illegal in Canada—minded me of “Sergeant Pepper” at the Conference in Quebec with his fire extinguisher sized crowd control demonstration in Quebec City. I was satisfied to spend the rest of the day wandering around the campground and filling my eyes with mountains while I took pictures. In the evening I walked up to the amphitheatre for a talk on Raptors. Otherwise I enjoyed sitting in the sun reading my guide to Big Bend Country and the Park Guide.

Thursday morning I drove up to the visitors centre to join a hike featuring a talk on mountain lions. The purpose was to introduce us to the topic, we had no chance of actually seeing a cougar—felis concolour. Panthers are allusive creatures that can cause negative human interaction though usually it occurs because of our mistakes. Travis Smith’s purpose was to teach up safe habits in lion country. Over the course of our two mile hike he pulled pictures, cougar skulls, and a binder out of his backpack. After getting lunch set out for the River Road—Hwy 170 along the Rio Grande. As advertised the route was to say the least winding and hilly. The Rio Grande is betimes wide and shallow, muddy and flat, fast running, and constricted on both sides by towering canyons. For the most part the section of Mexico we view across the river is a landscape of towering mountains—a wild untamed landscape. What is immediately evident is the effect that available moisture has on the landscape. Trees were green as were the shrubs and for the first time I saw a significant number of flowering plants. Presidio, when I reached it, had a dustbowl like appearance. After shopping at Pueblo in Marfa I decided I didn’t like its only RV Park and drove back up to Fort Davis for the evening. Alas, the Marfa Lights will have to wait.

On The Road Again

I’m writing from the Roadrunner RV Park in downtown El Paso within sight of I-10. Not only have I left Austin 450 miles behind me but I’ve also entered another time zone—Mountain Standard Time. West Texas is characterized by its mountains or hills, depending upon your perspective; dust and yellow-brown grass, and clouds that fail to produce rain. A few large drops spilled out of a cloud over Marfa the other day but served only to dirty my windshield. I’ll take that over the rain bomb described to me that dropped 19 inches of rain in 15 minutes on one small town. The ever-present washout repairs along the highways testify to such events. Being vigilant to such possibilities even though the sky above you is clear is good policy. Tomorrow I will complete my 880 mile crossing of Texas along I-10 and enter New Mexico.

West Texas NPR Stations play more ‘corn’ than I’ve heard since I got out of broadcast range of CKBW Radio in Bridgewater, NS. Do you remember: The Witch Doctor—Ou Eee, Ou Ah Ah, Ting Tang, Walla Walla Bing Bang; Heavenly Shades… …at Twilight Time; Running Bear Loved Little Widja, with a love that’ll never die? Thought not! On Saturday night Marfa Radio broadcasts the local Stockyard Auction Live! I’m not in Austin anymore.

It’s been two weeks since my last blog entry first because I was busy getting ready; then I went on the road, and finally my laptop which has been complaining for the last 3 months finally gave up the ghost just after I prudently did one last backup. I was forced to replace it with an American-Bought model. My new baby has 6 GB of memory and a 300 GB hard drive along with all the requisite bells and whistles. It also sports Windows Vista 64 Bit. Exactly what that means I really can’t say except that the OS is fussy about what drivers it will let you use; it seems to be willing to run most of my software but for some reason Mozilla Firefox doesn’t seem to like it’s new home and freezes up and refuses to close with disgusting regularity. I’ve spent the last three days attempting to bend the new beast to my will so I haven’t been out much.

Backtracking two weeks we’re back in Austin on Barton Springs Rd in Pecan Grove Park. Did my best in my last week there to bike around as much of Austin as I could and to indulge in some restaurant-cooked meals. Ran into a young soldier with a Roadtrek 190 on which he was busy flushing holding tanks that obviously had not been treated with odour suppressants. The litter on the floor of his unit was over 1 foot deep. By comparison I’m a marvel of good housekeeping. On Tuesday the 13 I cleaned up me and then set to getting the RV ready for colder climes. Got out the owners manuals and learned a few more tricks my appliances are capable of doing if I know how to push their buttons correctly. Took advantage of $2.00 pints—16 oz—at Uncle Billy’s Brew&Que and indulged in BBQ while I used their Wi-Fi to catch up on CBC news. Just before my laptop failed I took the fateful decision to renew my anti-virus licence. If I’d waited?¿

On Wednesday in partial recompense for all that hedonism I went to Mid-Week Service at Gethsemane after first grocery shopping and picking up the first season of the Series “Life” at Best Buy. The ulterior motive for the visit was an invitation to lunch with Rev Karl Gronberg. We ended up having lunch in the Narthex rather than go out and Karl kept himself busy during and after with rather unpastoral chores. Finally we got away after we’d delivered a parishioner to her home in the church’s Red Van and transferred to Karl’s own vintage car to spend a brief time in the Gronberg’s own home. The Christmas Tree that still graced his living room was the most perfectly formed I’ve seen since my father scoured his 300 acres of Christmas Tree Country for the ideal model. I was also impressed with the Grand Piano in the living room, the creative turmoil that was Karl’s office, the tasteful décor of the rest of the house and the basketball court in the large backyard. Soon we were off to make pastoral calls and back to the church where I was dropped off for supper while Karl went to a basketball game.

On Thursday January 15 I finally hit the road again. Gasoline, when I finally found it was $1.59 a gallon and the road out of Austin did its best to allude me; apparently my GPS minding skills had deserted me. Eventually I found 290 Westbound and almost immediately started gaining altitude among the hills. When I finally reached I-10 I was a bit taken aback to realize that the posted speed limit read 80 mph! Under a cloudy sky with no crosswinds the best I could muster was 65. Among the barren hills of West Texas Interstate 10 does its best to avoid the worst of the obstacles in its path spreading the east and west bound lanes as far as a mile apart in places. The rest areas featured unique picnic table configurations including giant wagon wheels to hold up the shelters and rest rooms with open air washrooms and ceramic tile mosaics one of a horse and his rider and another of a stagecoach.

When I’d run out of energy for the road I stopped at a place called Ozona, the Crockett County Seat, a city of 3000 which has a three storey museum to their native son and a larger than life statue. The Circle Bar RV Park is a level compacted sandpit with curbs holding in crushed rock between the drive-through campsites. Across the fence is open dessert and creosote bush. Not particularly homey but $15 a night with full hook-ups and Wi-Fi. Once the curtains are drawn who cares? It was quiet.

Friday morning stuck out with the determination that I’d reach Fort Davis before nighfall. It was during this passage that my laptop failed. When I find more time I have ten pages of notes to transcribe to my journaling software. The local gas station in Ozona being under construction I left without refilling my tank. The Truck stop had five diesel bays to cater to their principle clientele. At Bakersfield I filled up for $2.19 a gallon and at last saw my first oil pumps working away; the sour-gas odour impossible to miss. From that point it was a matter of a few more hills and curves to Hwy 17 which led through more hills and winding roads to Fort Davis—the site of a military post that closed in 1891. Finding a particular campground in a rural area can be a challenge but after exploring a few backroads I found MacMillan in the Highlands RV Park where no one was home. Driving into town sent chills up and down my spine—it was like driving onto a movie set, the movie in question being Dancer Texas, Pop 81. The small period town with the Sleeping Lion Mountain as backdrop was unmistakeable. Having watched my VHS copy of the movie many times I suddenly felt like I’d come home. When I rode into town later on my bicycle and found the little Presbyterian Church used in the movie I met its pastor and received an invite for Sunday Service. The pastor lives on a working ranch, drives a pickup, and wears a cowboy hat. I felt as if I should be tending to a paper route on my bike. Ranching is a way of life here; deer and peccaries wandering around my campground. And so began the next series of adventures.

Daily Rant 2009-01-11

Committee:

A body that keeps minutes and wastes hours.

If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is part of yourself. What isn't part of ourselves doesn't disturb us.

Hermann Hesse (1877 - 1962)

Speaking of political bodies since I spent two half-days recently catching up on Canadian News as reported by CBC Updates for the month of December I learn that the 100 foot Christmas Tree in front of the Quebec Legislature could not be referred to as L'Arbre Noel as that might offend someone of another religious persuasion. Political Correctness has gotten way out of hand.

Incoming President Obama is making all the right foreign diplomacy moves by making the President of Mexico his first foreign visitor and Canada his first foreign tour.

On the Don Valley Parkway in Toronto the driver of a Mercedes was clocked doing 150 MPH. Having viewed the highway web cams of Toronto Roads such speeds are beyond idiocy and the $9000 fine more than deserved. I'm glad I wasn't sharing the road with this menace.

Early this morning I heard one of our migratory warblers busy singing away. Just what he had to sing about in air that hovered just above freezing I don't know unless it was the prospect of warmer climes to come given the crystal clear azure sky.

Before I get so comfortable here in Austin that I never want to leave I've started making plans for the next leg of my Odyssey. In preparation I've done laundry, reordered my stores, sorted paper, and dug out manuals to ready my vehicle for colder weather. I'm headed toward West Texas Hill Country and higher elevations. Near Fort Davis is U of T's McDonald Astronomical Observatory on the way to Marfa where I wish to go gliding and with luck see the famous Marfa Lights.

In the meantime I'm attempting to see as much of Austin as I have time and energy to explore. I've biked the entire 20 miles around Town Lake and will explore bike trails north if I manage to find them today. Went next door to Uncle Billys Brew&Que and quaffed a couple well-brewed Pale Ales and tried their Smokehouse Cobb Salad. I want to go back for more ale and genuine BBQ.

Friday I attended an Austin Symphony Concert in the Dell Hall at the Long Centre. The hall's acoustics deserve every laudatory boast written about them. Save a minor complaint about the lack of lushness and warmth from the string section the orchestra has an extremely professional sound and Peter Bey puts me in mind of a young Sir Andrew Davis when he first came to Toronto though Peter doesn't hop a foot off the floor when he gives a downbeat for a tutti section but he is equally animated in his conducting style. Garrick Olhsson gave us a workmanlike rendition of Dvorak's deservedly obscure Second Piano Concerto and a warmly applauded Chopin Waltz Encore. Rachmaninov's Second Symphony was an hour of pure delight.

Daily Rant 2009-01-07

January 7

Time was when going for a bike ride was simply a matter of walking out the door and hopping on your two-wheeler. Alas, nothing in the 21^st Century is that simple. For most people the first step is all about getting into the right skin-tight spandex gear, then the right shoes, the pant guards, and the helmet. I may dispense with the spandex but since I bought an electric motor assisted bike every ride begins and ends with installing or removing and charging the battery. Such bikes come with a set of two extra keys to add to the RV or house keys. Next step is the bike lock after the bike cover is removed and put away. Getting a bike on and off a car stand is quite another performance. Get on the bike, insert key in controller lock and finally we're good to go—now where was it we planned to go?

Roads are paved around here which is an improvement over the loose gravel, mud, pot holes and washboard I was formerly accustomed to riding. There are even bike lanes in places—pity that's where they put grates and manhole covers.

I find it hard to believe that I'm quoting Ronald Regan but this isn't half bad:

Viewing the Economy

"Government's view of the economy could be summed up in a few short phrases: If it moves, tax it. If it keeps moving, regulate it. And if it stops moving, subsidize it." --Ronald Reagan

Word just corrected his spelling.

It's sunny again here in Austin and the A/C is attempting to keep up with the heat inside my home while the neighbours wander around in shorts and T's. I got up early and stripped and washed my bed so that I could hang it out on our communal washline to dry. Not only is it good for the environment, I saved 75¢, and my sheets are whiter and smell better as well. Yes the drier is 75¢ and the washer $1.00—no wonder the neighbours come over to do their washing here.

While I had everything torn up decided to houseclean. Put DVD's and CD's I've finished using away in deep storage and re-organized my stores. Now I won't be able to find anything but I've more room. I also need to do some more work sorting through the tourist bumph I've collected deciding what's valuable enough to cart around with me and what needs pitching. It doesn't seem to take long for it to start adding up to a great deal of weight.

January 8

Last night I was reminded as to why allergy sufferers are advised to use indoor dryers rather than outside washlines. My bedding picked up pollen which caused me some distress. The sheets felt wonderful for their day in the sun and wind though.

Guess I'm going to have to make it a practice to set up my coffeemaker the night before. It's difficult to credit this but I'm finding it difficult to keep track of 4 scoops of coffee grounds first thing in the morning.

Yesterday took my new bike back to Alien Scooters in Austin for repairs. Apparently the chain which broke on me had too many links and the derailers needed aligning. Somehow it seems to me they should have checked these things before they sold it me rather than wait for the bike to break down and strand the rider miles from home.

First Weekly Rant of 2009

Last night two Swedish fellow campers gave me the perfect metaphor for American Beer—it's like making love in a canoe; fucking close to water.

Signs seen outside a church:

Open Sundays

Visitors Welcome

Members Expected

The news of late out of the Canadian Arts scene has been full of the near bankruptcy of Ballet BC. If the arts are to survive in North America in the first place governments have to wake up to their importance in our educations system and their role in supporting them. However my own experience also raises the issue of arts organizations and their lack of business acumen. A few years ago I was in Calgary where the Symphony Orchestra was experiencing financial problems. I walked up to their actual main box-office and was informed by the agent at the window that she couldn't sell me tickets because they had no ticket stock on which to print the tickets. She proceeded to send me on a half-mile walk to another agency that was able to accommodate my needs.

At present I'm in Austin half a mile from the Long Centre where Austin Symphony Orchestra Concerts take place. Imagine my annoyance when I walked up to their box office and learned that not only does the Long Centre not sell tickets to the events that take place in their venue, but also they don't stock information on them. To do that one has to go to the local box office of each constituent organization up to miles distant. So today I went to the Austin Symphony Orchestra's Website to attempt the process there. Three times I failed because the system will hold a reservation only 8 minutes and the purchase process took longer to complete. It wasn't until I switched to Firefox, a faster browser that I finally succeeded in buying the ticket I was offered in the first place 3 hours previous. Tickets to be picked up at the box office at the Long Centre 1 hour previous to the performance. The pre-concert talk starts at 7:10 giving me 10 minutes to pick up my tickets. Just watch the box office be late opening. This is called customer service?

January Second 2009

January 2, 2009—The second day of 2009, there are 363 days left in 2009.

New Years

A time for reflection and introspection. I don't normally do New Year's Resolutions. This year at a time when I have eschewed planning completely I have even less reason to do so.

A slow time of year in the news business it's a time when media publish best of lists and year-end reviews. It's also the busiest season in the mortuary business the second being early spring. On my ride uptown yesterday I passed a funeral home bearing the title Weed ---- and Fish.

About that ride. On Tuesday, December 30 gave myself a belated Christmas Present in the form of an Ultra Motor Electric Bike from a dealer named Alien Scooter in South Austin. Found them while I was walking through the neighbourhood. On New Years Day took advantage of light traffic to go for a sixteen mile ride up through the middle of Austin. I wanted to see just how far I could go on one battery charge and secondarily to completely deplete the battery so that it would set a full charge.

For those so interested here's the manufacturer's home page:

http://www.ultramotor.com/landingpage.html

I bought the Europa Model in particular because it comes with bell, mudguards, reflectors, and lights already built in.

Back to the media. There have been the usual spate of reports of celebrities behaving badly in news reports. DUI's seem to crop up in particular. The previous entry from the New York Times especially caught my eye. The costs of war continue long after the 'boys' come home. Whatever the costs in men and materiel to wage a war there are equivalent after costs in care and rehabilitation for the wounded and dead whose families will need lifetime support. However discounting the mental and spiritual cost of brutalization in the men who return without apparent physical injury is to do them a dis-service. The NRA notwithstanding I feel there is an awful price to pay just by the process of training 30% of a nation's population in the use of deadly force and the most efficient methods of killing and injuring. Whether it is called Gulf War Syndrome or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder everyone who experiences war goes through it and those who deny it even to themselves are most at risk. Unfortunately a fraternity that teaches men to 'hang-tuff' ill-equips them to deal.

It is one thing for young men to reintegrate into 'normal' society after the ferocity of warfare—young men in the prime of life who have had productive years in the work-force stolen from them; it is quite another for those who might otherwise have lived normal lives who have been pushed beyond that breaking point that all of us have and may never recover. To my mind the cost in ruined lives must be added to the price of being the world's police keeper. And of course that price is paid not just by the traumatised individuals but also by the family and friends who watch helplessly as they self-destruct and the society which must deal with the havoc they wreak. I've already made my opinions of American Gun Culture well known.

War comes with costs long after it's over!

A Focus on Violence by Returning G.I.’s

By LIZETTE ALVAREZ and DAN FROSCH

Published: January 1, 2009

FORT CARSON, Colo. — For the past several years, as this Army installation in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains became a busy way station for soldiers cycling in and out of Iraq, the number of servicemen implicated in violent crimes has raised alarm.

Enlarge This Image

Kevin Moloney for The New York Times

Maj. Gen. Mark Graham has made mental health a focus in his command. One of his sons, an R.O.T.C. cadet, committed suicide.

Related

More War Torn columns »

Top, Orange County Sheriff's Department, via Associated Press; Bottom, Janet Wood

John Needham, discharged from the Army, was charged in the fatal beating of his girlfriend, Jacqwelyn Villagomez.

The Denver Channel

Robert Marko is charged in the rape and killing of Judilianna Lawrence in October.

Nine current or former members of Fort Carson’s Fourth Brigade Combat Team have killed someone or were charged with killings in the last three years after returning from Iraq. Five of the slayings took place last year alone. In addition, charges of domestic violence, rape and sexual assault have risen sharply.

Prodded by Senator Ken Salazar, Democrat of Colorado, the base commander began an investigation of the soldiers accused of homicide. An Army task force is reviewing their recruitment, medical and service records, as well as their personal histories, to determine if the military could have done something to prevent the violence. The inquiry was recently expanded to include other serious violent crimes.

Now the secretary of the Army, Pete Geren, says he is considering conducting an Army-wide review of all soldiers “involved in violent crimes since returning” from Iraq and Afghanistan, according to a letter sent to Mr. Salazar in December. Mr. Geren wrote that the Fort Carson task force had yet to find a specific factor underlying the killings, but that the inquiry was continuing.

Focusing attention on soldiers charged with killings is a shift for the military, which since the start of the war in Iraq has largely deflected any suggestion that combat could be a factor in violent behavior among some returning service members.

Maj. Gen. Mark Graham, the Fort Carson commander, said, “If they had a good manner of performance before they deployed, then they get back and they get into trouble, instead of saying we will discipline you for trouble, the leadership has to say, Why did that occur, what happened, what is causing this difference in behavior?”

General Graham, whose oldest son, Jeff, was killed by a roadside bomb in Iraq a year after another son, Kevin, committed suicide, has made mental health a focus since taking command of Fort Carson in 2007. “I feel like I have to speak out for the Kevins of the world,” he said.

The inquiry, the general added, is “looking for a trend, something that happened through their life cycle that might have contributed to this, something we could have seen coming.”

Last January, The New York Times published articles examining the cases of veterans of the wars in Iraq or Afghanistan charged with homicide after their return. At the time, it counted at least 121 such cases. In many of them, combat trauma and the stress of deployment appeared to have set the stage for the crimes.

At Fort Carson, at least four of the accused killers from the Fourth Brigade Combat Team, Fourth Infantry Division were grappling with post-traumatic stress disorder and several had been injured in battle.

One was John Needham, a 25-year-old private from a military family in California, whose downward spiral began when he sustained shrapnel wounds in Iraq and tried to commit suicide. This September, after being treated for stress disorder and receiving a medical discharge from the Army, Mr. Needham was charged with beating his girlfriend to death.

“Where is this aggression coming from?” asked Vivian H. Gembara, a former captain and Army prosecutor at Fort Carson until 2004, who wrote a book about the war crimes she prosecuted in Iraq. “Was it something in Iraq? Were they in a lot of heavy combat? If so, the command needs to pay more attention to that. You can’t just point all of them out as bad apples.”

The Fourth Combat Brigade, previously called the Second Combat Brigade, fought in Iraq’s fiercest cities at some of the toughest moments. Falluja and Ramadi, after insurgents dug into the rubble. Baghdad and its Sadr City district, as body counts soared. By 2007, after two tours, the brigade, which numbers 3,500, had lost 113 soldiers, with hundreds more wounded. It is now preparing for a tour in Afghanistan this spring.

Most Fort Carson soldiers have been to Iraq at least once; others have deployed two, three or four times.

Kaye Baron, a therapist in Colorado Springs who treats Fort Carson soldiers and families, said, “It got to the point I stopped asking if they have deployed, and started asking how many times they have deployed.”

Ms. Baron added, “There are some guys who say, ‘Why do I have to get treatment for P.T.S.D.? I just have to go back.’ ”

While most soldiers returning from war adjust with minor difficulties, military leaders acknowledges that multiple deployments strain soldiers and families, and can increase the likelihood of problems like excessive drinking, marital strife and post-traumatic stress disorder.

Domestic violence among Fort Carson soldiers has become more prevalent since the Iraq war began in 2003. In 2006, Fort Carson soldiers were charged in 57 cases of domestic violence, according to figures released by the base. As of mid-December, the number had grown to 145.

Rape and sexual assault cases against soldiers have also increased, from 10 in 2006 to 38 as of mid-December, the highest tally since the war began. Both domestic violence and rape are crimes that are traditionally underreported.

Fort Carson officials say the increased numbers do not necessarily indicate more violence. Karen Connelly, a Fort Carson spokeswoman, said the base, whose population fluctuates from 11,000 to 14,500 soldiers, is doing a better job of holding soldiers accountable for crimes, encouraging victims to come forward and keeping statistics.

Even so, Col. B. Shannon Davis, the base’s deputy commander, said the task force was examining these trends. “We are looking at crime as a whole,” he said.

The killings allegedly involving the nine current or former Fourth Brigade soldiers have caused the most consternation. The first occurred in 2005, when Stephen Sherwood, a musician who joined the Army for health benefits, returned from Iraq and fatally shot his wife and then himself.

Last year, three battlefield friends were charged with murder after two soldiers were found shot dead within four months of each other. Two of the accused suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder, and all three had been in disciplinary or criminal trouble in the military. One had a juvenile record and been injured in Iraq.

The latest killing was in October, when the police say Robert H. Marko, an infantryman, raped and killed Judilianna Lawrence, a developmentally disabled teenager he had met online. Specialist Marko believed that on his 21st birthday he would become the “Black Raptor” — half-man, half-dinosaur, a confidential Army document shows. The Army evaluated him three times for mental health problems but cleared him for combat each time.

Senator Salazar, President-elect Barack Obama’s choice to be secretary of the interior, called for the Fort Carson inquiry, saying the killings raised questions about what role, if any, combat stress played.

“It’s a hard issue, but it’s a realistic issue,” he said.

Since arriving at Fort Carson, General Graham has spoken openly about mental health, particularly post-traumatic stress disorder, calling it an act of courage, not frailty, to ask for help.

His 21-year-old son, a top R.O.T.C. cadet, hanged himself in 2003 after battling depression. He had stopped taking his antidepressants because he did not want to disclose his illness, fearing such an admission would harm his chances for a career as an Army doctor, General Graham said.

“He was embarrassed,” the general said.

He added: “I feel it every day. We didn’t give him all the care we should have. He got some care, but not enough. I’ll never be convinced I did enough for my son.”

At Fort Carson, in cases of dishonorable discharge, General Graham asks whether the soldier might be struggling with combat stress disorder.

He has sometimes opted instead to grant medical discharges, which entitle veterans to benefits. All Fort Carson soldiers who seek medical attention are now asked about their mental health and, if necessary, referred for treatment.

Still, some sergeants view stress disorder skeptically and actively discourage treatment, some therapists and soldiers say.

Billie Gray, 71, who until recently worked at a base clinic helping soldiers with emotional problems, said “that was the biggest problem at Fort Carson today: harassment” and “the very fact they are harassed made their mental status worse.”

Ms. Gray said she believed she was fired in October for being an outspoken advocate for mental health treatment. Base officials declined to comment, citing privacy reasons.

Colonel Davis, the deputy commander, acknowledged that sergeants had been reprimanded for discouraging treatment. “We have had to take corrective action,” he said, “but fewer and fewer times.”

John Wylie Needham, one of the accused killers whose case is now being examined by the task force, was “cracking up” in Iraq, he told his father in an e-mail message. Yet, he felt he had to fight to get help, his father said in an interview.

In October 2006, during his first week in Iraq, Private Needham, a California surfer, watched a good friend die from a sniper bullet. Months later, he was blasted in the back by shrapnel from a grenade. To cope with his growing anxiety, he stole Valium and drank liquor. Caught twice, he was punished with a reduction in rank, a fine and extra work, a confidential Army document shows. Eventually, he was prescribed medication, but he wrote to his father, Mike Needham, that it did not help.

Private Needham became angry at the way other soldiers reacted to the fighting, and he did not hide it. “They seemed to revel in how many people they had killed,” said a friend in his unit who spoke on condition of anonymity.

In September 2007, Private Needham tried to kill himself with a gun, the Army document states, but another soldier intervened. Mike Needham, a veteran, said that rather than treating his son, the Army disciplined him for discharging a weapon and confined him to barracks. The Army declined to comment.

“I’m stressed to the point of completely losing it,” Private Needham wrote to his father in October 2007. “The squad leader brushed me off and said suck it up.”

He added, “They keep me locked up in this room and if I need food or water I have to have 2 guards with me.”

The Army evacuated Private Needham to Walter Reed Army Medical Center to treat his back and his post-traumatic stress disorder. But a month later, he was back at Fort Carson.

“The first words out of the Mental Health Authority was, ‘we are severely understaffed,’ ” Mr. Needham said in an e-mail message to an officer at Walter Reed. “If you’re suicidal we can see you twice a week, otherwise once a week.”

Fort Carson assured Mike Needham that his son was receiving proper care. But during his son’s visit home during the Thanksgiving break, Mr. Needham found him smearing camouflage-colored makeup on his face and frantically sharpening a stick with a kitchen knife.

“He was a total mess,” Mr. Needham said.

He was treated at a California naval hospital until last July when he received a medical discharge from the Army. While Private Needham was in the early stages of getting help from a Veterans Administration clinic, he spent his days depressed and often drinking at his father’s condominium.

Then last summer, Private Needham met Jacqwelyn Villagomez, a bubbly 19-year-old aspiring model who saw him as a kindred spirit, said Jennifer Johnson, who had helped raise her. Her mother had died of AIDS when she was 6 and her father had left the family. Ms. Villagomez, “who saw the good in everyone,” had recently kicked a heroin habit, Ms. Johnson said.

“She thought she could save him,” Ms. Johnson said. But a month later, the police say, Private Needham beat Ms. Villagomez to death in his father’s condominium.

Mr. Needham said the Army handled his son’s case poorly, but Ms. Johnson finds it hard to muster sympathy for him.

“I’m sure what happened to him was awful,” she said. “I’m sure he saw some horrible things that altered him. But this is a 200-pound guy who beat up this 95-pound little girl. It’s disgusting.”