Saturday, August 09, 2008

 

The Osprey - Another E-Ticket Ride

The burocratic muddle with my travel from Klecker to Gannon/Al-Qaim cleared and I got a show time in the evening. “Show time” means the time you show up. The BIAP folks were helpful and got me on tonight’s E-Ticket ride, a Marine Corps Osprey.

We waited outside the terminal. The horizon looked like a huge, dark umbrella, around whose circumference lights of varying intensity peeked. Belying this image was the sky overhead, full of stars sprinkled in a very deep purple, almost black sky. The air was lovingly warm. I stood there in my battle rattle, sweating under the ballistic vest. They had allowed me a footlocker and my carry-on, a big rucksack. My M-4 was clipped to the vest with a Wolf clip, a quick-release attachment.

The Osprey appeared, sounding like two deep-throated helicopters. The twin rotors pointed at the sky. We ambled the couple hundred meters to the waiting white helicopter. A jockey-sized Marine, the smallest I’ve ever seen, signaled us with a green flashlight and we walked up the short ramp. The helo was full. My flying partner, a Treasury Department civilian, and I got the last two seats at the back. There were green lights overhead to help us find our seats. We stood my footlocker on end and sat down.

Once again, I didn’t know how to latch the four belts. A gentleman of approximately my age, showed me- the two shoulder straps have a thin slot through which the normal-looking lap belt goes, then all three clip into a very normal looking lap belt with a lift-up release.

We taxied (Still can’t get over a helicopter that rolls) a bit then the pilot gunned the motors and we were in the air with a couple of small aerial bounces. I tried a bit of collegiality: I tapped the guy who’d shown me how to work the seat belts, and shouted in his ear, “This is cool!” He smiled and nodded his helmeted head. We saw the lights of the airport; I tried to see Klecker’s layout, but I think we went over a different small compound. Then I noticed that the ramp didn’t close. The Marine had a strap tether and didn’t sit down. Why was that? As soon as we got a bit of altitude, the Marine sat behind a machine gun that I’d overlooked on my way up. Like the Blackhawk gunners, this one used NVG to look behind us and swung the machine gun where he was looking.

We flew just a few minutes, then came down and landed. Everyone got off but my partner and me. The second crewman motioned for us to sit further front, next to him. A couple of minutes later, three soldiers and an unarmed contractor boarded. We took off again, bouncing once before settling into a nice pace. While still fairly low, the pilot veered to the left and to the right. Not quite the steep angle that the Blackhawk achieved, but the square of the open rear hatch showed me a perfect 45-degree angle of the horizon’s lights. The difference with the Osprey’s piloting was that we maintained this angle for longer times, spiraling upward rather than just quick zig-zags.

We made one more stop. I heard the front crewman say “gas.” The soldier next to me began to pick up his rucksack, but I tapped him on the back and motioned for him to leave it on board. We all got off, walked behind a few pieces of T-wall and waited. I took the opportunity to visit the porta-potty with my flashlight showing me where to pee so I didn’t end up with damp boots. Then we waited a bit more. Pretty soon, someone on an ATV drove by and motioned with a couple of chemical light sticks. We tramped single-file back out to the Osprey.

Taking off was getting easier. Sure, there was still the rumble but that indicated power. After getting in the air, there was serious acceleration happening. Good job I had shoulder belts to keep me upright. The Osprey also flew higher and faster, once it got going. The inside of the Osprey reminded me of huge dinosaur entrails- large pipes ran along the ceiling and walls, some white, some grey, some turning here and others going straight there. An Osprey is a raptor, so maybe that’s where the subconscious link to a dinosaur’s belly came from. I sat opposite a window that had instructions on how to open it in an emergency. I wasn’t sure that with my battle rattle on, I’d be able to fit through that window. Fortunately, I’ve not yet learned if I’ll fit through that exit.

Flying with someone manning a machine gun was strange, too. Would there be someone down there trying to shoot us down? This was Iraq, after all. As Iraq’s nighttime landscape scrolled by the small round window opposite, I thought about my companions- all young, all strong, all armed. And I couldn’t help ask myself, “What the heck am I doing here?” No cogent answer appeared in my mind, so I concentrated on drinking water because I was pretty damp all over from sweating under my vest. I noticed that my water bottle was thinner. As I unscrewed the cap, the release of pressure let it get round again. Was going down a few hundred feet really doing that? What would Mr. Wizard have to say about a plastic water bottle and going up and down in a helicopter?

One more stop, and the soldiers got out. The front crewman opened at his aluminum clipboard’s manifest and shouted over the din of the motors, “Next stop.” We nodded. We picked up about a dozen soldiers and lifted in the air. The trip had become a milk run. We got some altitude, sped up, and cruised pretty briskly for about 20 minutes until we got to Al-Asad. I got off the helicopter, slung my backpack over my head and down my arms. Then I put my rifle in front of the footlocker and lifted it, following the few people who were ahead of me. A Marine pointed us to a bus. He stood in the doorway and asked us for our CAC cards. Eventually, I got into the terminal. I dragged my footlocker and rucksack to a bench. Someone returned my CAC card. I checked in with the manifest desk. My travel numbers existed in his computer. He told me that my next flight was in about seven hours. I went to the next counter and checked in with the too-young gal who manned the transient register. ("Womaned" is more PC, but my idiolect won't let me go there grammatically.) I signed in. She showed me a drawing of where the terminal is and how to walk to the transient tents. I got the closest one. Not exactly luxurious, these accommodations: folding cots on a wood floor inside a huge tent. Period, full stop. I got some rest, not really sleep, then I got up and lugged my stuff back to the terminal. I’d been in Al-Asad for three hours. At the manifest desk, they told me my next leg was at 0815, almost five hours away. I watched PBS news on a slightly fuzzy large-screen TV with frequent video drop-outs. We’ll see what kind of transportation I have for the next leg of my flight.


Sunday, August 03, 2008

 

Blackhawk Air is the Ultimate E-Ticket Ride!

I’m back from Taji. We took a one-ton pickup from the Iraqi part of the base to Echo, where we tried for space-available seats. We signed in and grabbed a liter of water and a bag of beef jerky and chatted with an Army captain and a British captain about lots of things under the outdoor porch. A soldier slept on his rucksack on the wooden benches and a couple of contractors in 70’s-era body armor stood around talking quietly. About a half hour later, the Echo guy emerged from the ops shed. "The bird's here early, so grab your gear and let's go!” I donned the 50-pound Individual Body Armor and my Kevlar helmet, swung my backpack over my head and grabbed my rifle. The gunner-slash-cabin crew had an aluminum clipboard with a manifest. He made the tiniest “come here” gesture to us and turned around, walking towards the helicopter. He had loaded everyone else into the back of the Blackhawk and pointed to a seat in front of the sliding door. I put my backpack in the space in front of the seat and set my rifle next to it. Then I climbed up. He slid the door closed and climbed in through the gun window.

I had a four-point seat belt whose buckle rotated to release. The buckle was on my right and three belts clipped into it. Finding the shoulder belts was a chore because they were behind me and because my IBA is so bulky. The gunner grabbed two shoulder belts and showed me how to click them into the buckle. I sat behind the gunner on the left side. The left belt went over the top of my 9mm pouches and the right belt fit next to my med pack. My backpack was where my feet should be, so I sat splayed in the web chair. My rifle stayed between my right knee and my backpack. As soon as I sat down, the dust from the field went everywhere, so I put my goggles down from my helmet. It took a bit of finesse to get my glasses inside. (I’d done that before, but without the helmet)

Then, with no warning, we took off.

There were two pilots up front, and right behind them, two gunners. I could see some pilot controls and a little glass bubble with flying-saucer green lights that moved around. It was very noisy- my earplugs helped a lot, but the motor was so loud, no one could talk. The air was hot, like an oven, as it came through the gunners’ windows.

I might be delusional, but there’s a scent in the air that smells of where civilization began.

Most of the time we flew straight and level, but when the pilot felt like it, he banked us hard so the craft was 90 degrees to the horizontal. Woo hoo!! Talk about an E-ticket ride!

The gunners had night vision goggles and they kept scanning everything everywhere. The guns were small- maybe 7.62mm or even .223. I noticed that both gunners weren’t big guys- they had to fit through the window and then put their feet underneath their web chairs because only a couple of inches separated their web chairs from the bulkhead.

My body was three temperature zones- cold where the air was drying my perspiration, hot where I wasn't perspiring and really hot where my IBA just soaked my clothes. During the flight, I noticed something wet on my bottom lip- that was perspiration from my head, being shunted past my goggles, around my nose and through my moustache.

I had the best seat in the house! I got to see Baghdad by night. When I wasn't thinking about someone shooting at me, I liked the lights and the layout. It’s a huge place. Nothing but streets and lights from horizon to horizon. I saw mini-dramas from the sky. Down below, a single vehicle drove along a wide road that should have been straight, but which took a lot of bends and dog-legs. There were red and blue lights on a vehicle whose headlights lit up a walled house’s gates. The lights went off. Then they came back on. For no apparent reason, we did one of those E-ticket banks to the left and parked in a big, empty field near what looked like a swell in the road, something like an overpass, but there wasn’t any traffic underneath. We waited there for a few minutes, then took off again. It seemed as though the pilot was choosing to veer this way and that way, so as not to establish a “regular route” for anyone down below to see. Close to where we landed were several large water ponds. Water purification plant sprung to mind. Part of Baghdad’s infrastructure? Sure, could be. And though this is a war zone, the plants seemed to be functioning.

We landed for fuel and had to stand away from the fuel mechanisms. After ten minutes, we got back in and flew another mile to our destination. We rolled up to the terminal and everyone got out. The few hundred yards from the Blackhawk to the terminal seemed to take forever because my backpack, IBA and rifle hadn’t gotten lighter during the ride. Inside the terminal, we gave our CAC cards to the clerk who scanned them and were officially “arrived.” We tried several times to raise our transport guy, finally succeeded and headed back to Klecker, where we made our beds by flashlight in the dark tent. After couple of quick emails to my sons, sleep came swiftly. A shower, food and even laundry could wait.


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