Sunday, December 28, 2008
Umm Qasr, Day Two
Umm Qasr 12272008
This morning, after no shower because I had no hot water because I had no electricity, I put on some clean clothes and went to breakfast with “Tiny.” The chow hall is small, but the food is excellent. I had one French toast, some bacon, a small flat tater-tot and some orange juice. We came back and chatted a bit, then met some Army guys from the POETT and walked to the port. The walk took us through some trashed-out areas of the port- someone had stacked containers on top of railroad tracks, seriously denting them. One interesting element occurred- “Sandbag,” a large white dog for which someone got shots and a collar, trotted along with us to the port. When we got closer, there was activity that he didn’t like, so he went back to our camp. Or maybe he just went where he wanted.
There were rows of brightly-painted trucks waiting for something to do. Lots of Iraqi guys chatted in twos and threes as we walked by. We waived to them, smiling and trying to do the “Hearts and Minds” thing. The port building is pretty big. We went to see one guy who was pretty busy, talking on his cell phone while signing some documents that people kept bringing him. He surprised me by talking with us about his problems. I expected to hear that everything was fine, no training needed. Maybe that’ll be a subsequent shoe that drops.
The meeting lasted an hour, and then another of our group opened the door and said there was a line a mile long waiting to see him. We didn’t dawdle, thanked him and walked back. I talked with a Captain who seemed interested in my lore of port operations, container volumes, etc.
When we got back, Tiny said we didn’t have anything else to do today, so I organized myself, cleaned my room, re-organized the room, cleaned more, and finally have a pretty acceptable room. We spoke with a nice guy who seems capable in a maintenance sort of way. He got us into the room next door where my circuit breaker lives. Our water heater is in that room, too. We reset the main breaker, and then a few minutes later it popped. We reset it, waited and it popped. They left the door open, telling me that if the circuit breaker opened, I could go in and reset it myself. Sure enough, that’s what happened. I timed it- every three minutes, it would pop. I think it was the water heater that overloaded it. While waiting for the circuit breaker, I got some hot water in a bucket and scrubbed my shower, toilet and sink. The floor was next. Then I came into the main room and swept lots of mess out the door. I moved the fridge and splashed water from the drain on the floor. I got the shower mat from the bathroom (that said Holiday Inn Dubai) and put it on the wet spot. The towel soaked up some of the damp, but six hours later, I still have a dark spot where the water isn’t dry yet.
I put two cases of water inside the fridge and one inside the freezer so it’ll work less and maybe I’ll have cold water. I used the cardboard boxes from the cases of water as a place to store my underwear and uniforms. The room next door has a broken dresser- the front panel is secured to the sides with small pegs. If I can find some Elmer’s Wood Glue (or a European substitute), I may lug it into my room and put it in the corner where I have a 750-watt heater going to take the chill out of the room.
After taking one bed next door, my room now has two dingy Ikea chairs, a fridge with water, a nightstand and a reading light, a bed with clean sheets and a blanket, a small table with a TV that doesn’t work because there’s no signal, a chair that fits under the table, a small electric heater and a few rugs. The bathroom has a collapsible basket for dirty clothes and a small collapsible table that may be where I park a newspaper or magazine for those moments when moi needs a bit of time to complete moi’s bathroom activities. (Details will not be provided upon request.)
I’ve got a few things that came with the room and I just didn’t want to take next door. I’ve got a cot and an extra blanket. I’ve got three pillows that I’ll use after I get the pillow cases back from the laundry. And tomorrow I’ll find out how to do the laundry. I’ve got my clothes plus a big flat sheet-envelope that fits my blanket well. I’d use it but it smells like some strong perfume. A good wash will take that aroma away and I’ll use it. When I drop it off, I’ll ask about washing a big fluffy blanket, too.
I spent the afternoon scrubbing and cleaning and unpacking and organizing. Maybe tomorrow I’ll relax in the Ikea chairs and put my feet up on my footlocker with a cloth over it that I’m using as a coffee table. Moi desires to live a slightly civilized life, after all. My cold weather clothes are in the canvas bag that I brought from home. The closet doors are closed, making the place look tidy. If this were mine, I’d get a carpet cleaner and curtains for the windows. But since I’ll be here only five months, I’m satisfied with the way it is.
Moi would like to get something to watch TV with- a satellite maybe. And a few movies, too. A vacuum cleaner will be on my wish list, but at the bottom. KK, time for late chow.
When I went to the chow hall at 1800, someone else said the chow was delayed until 1930. At 1930, I went and got in but the place was nearly deserted. However, I got some pork in what tasted a bit like curry and some white rice with something like beef stew over it. Diced tomatoes were one side, diced peppers on another and something I couldn’t identify- kind of crispy yams, but without the sweetness. A bit bland, but the flavor that was there was nice. I took my time eating and when I got done, I was the last one there. I think they might have been delayed a bit, but not much. I had my mouth set for ice cream and did without. I took my opened Diet Coke and slipped another into my pocket for later. I don’t think it’s such a big thing but I don’t want to become a compulsive hoarder. I have a cookie and an apple and some peanut brittle and gum and a few cigars. Plenty of diversion for when the moment strikes my fancy.
When I went outside, Sandbag was there. He was about 30 feet away, looking at me. I made a noise with my tongue, clicking at him to come over. Another soldier, whom Sandbag recognized, got his attention for a moment, then Sandbag came over to me. I held my hand out to the side, so he could watch me and sniff my hand. Then he sniffed my holstered Beretta and turned around and sat down, letting me pet him on his neck and head. I think he liked it, but didn’t get all puppy-ish with pleasure. I think he’s a good dog. I’m glad someone got him a collar and some shots. Now I’ll have to look for something like bacon or tuna or some other people food that he might like to nibble.
We also have cats. I haven’t seen the white and tan cats with the ringtails but I’ve seen several grey cats, skittering along a bit antsy. I think they are less socialized to people. They probably scrounge what they can from the garbage and maybe prey on rodents who are attracted to the garbage as well but they don’t seem interested in people or in slowing down when they cross my path. I’m remembering the clutch of white and tan cats that patrolled past the place where Johnny and I had coffee- very attractive felines. There were several males ahead of a larger, heavier female. Not sure of the dynamics in that clan but the males seemed very equal in size. I told Johnny that when I get home to California, I want to find the pound and see if I can find a cat that looks like these ones- short-haired, cream-colored with tan splotches, ring-tails and a kind of chopped-off pointy nose.
See where Sandbag took me? I started out with scrubbing my room and ended up with wanting another cat in California, one that looks like an Iraqi cat.
Took a nice hot shower in my clean shower. Put on a long-sleeve thermal shirt to sleep in and my warm-up bottoms. Just in case my tootsies get cold, I put on the freebie socks that came in my first-class seat on the SFO-LHR flight. I didn’t shave because I’ll shave tomorrow morning before we go out. Tiny says we’ll see how the weekly passenger ferry processing goes. I’ll take my camera.
In a bit, I’ll brush my teeth and take my pills and play Hearts until I get sleepy. Then it’s time to close my eyes until tomorrow morning. All in all, I’ve got a pretty decent place to live here. Gotta find a way to get internet in my hooch but if I can only use the one that’s available to the entire camp, that’ll be OK. Tomorrow will be two days without checking emails, so my queue will be full. I’ll try to upload the last two days to my thumb drive so I can put ‘em in my blog and send ‘em to my big Richiesohn.
G’night, gentle reader.
This morning, after no shower because I had no hot water because I had no electricity, I put on some clean clothes and went to breakfast with “Tiny.” The chow hall is small, but the food is excellent. I had one French toast, some bacon, a small flat tater-tot and some orange juice. We came back and chatted a bit, then met some Army guys from the POETT and walked to the port. The walk took us through some trashed-out areas of the port- someone had stacked containers on top of railroad tracks, seriously denting them. One interesting element occurred- “Sandbag,” a large white dog for which someone got shots and a collar, trotted along with us to the port. When we got closer, there was activity that he didn’t like, so he went back to our camp. Or maybe he just went where he wanted.
There were rows of brightly-painted trucks waiting for something to do. Lots of Iraqi guys chatted in twos and threes as we walked by. We waived to them, smiling and trying to do the “Hearts and Minds” thing. The port building is pretty big. We went to see one guy who was pretty busy, talking on his cell phone while signing some documents that people kept bringing him. He surprised me by talking with us about his problems. I expected to hear that everything was fine, no training needed. Maybe that’ll be a subsequent shoe that drops.
The meeting lasted an hour, and then another of our group opened the door and said there was a line a mile long waiting to see him. We didn’t dawdle, thanked him and walked back. I talked with a Captain who seemed interested in my lore of port operations, container volumes, etc.
When we got back, Tiny said we didn’t have anything else to do today, so I organized myself, cleaned my room, re-organized the room, cleaned more, and finally have a pretty acceptable room. We spoke with a nice guy who seems capable in a maintenance sort of way. He got us into the room next door where my circuit breaker lives. Our water heater is in that room, too. We reset the main breaker, and then a few minutes later it popped. We reset it, waited and it popped. They left the door open, telling me that if the circuit breaker opened, I could go in and reset it myself. Sure enough, that’s what happened. I timed it- every three minutes, it would pop. I think it was the water heater that overloaded it. While waiting for the circuit breaker, I got some hot water in a bucket and scrubbed my shower, toilet and sink. The floor was next. Then I came into the main room and swept lots of mess out the door. I moved the fridge and splashed water from the drain on the floor. I got the shower mat from the bathroom (that said Holiday Inn Dubai) and put it on the wet spot. The towel soaked up some of the damp, but six hours later, I still have a dark spot where the water isn’t dry yet.
I put two cases of water inside the fridge and one inside the freezer so it’ll work less and maybe I’ll have cold water. I used the cardboard boxes from the cases of water as a place to store my underwear and uniforms. The room next door has a broken dresser- the front panel is secured to the sides with small pegs. If I can find some Elmer’s Wood Glue (or a European substitute), I may lug it into my room and put it in the corner where I have a 750-watt heater going to take the chill out of the room.
After taking one bed next door, my room now has two dingy Ikea chairs, a fridge with water, a nightstand and a reading light, a bed with clean sheets and a blanket, a small table with a TV that doesn’t work because there’s no signal, a chair that fits under the table, a small electric heater and a few rugs. The bathroom has a collapsible basket for dirty clothes and a small collapsible table that may be where I park a newspaper or magazine for those moments when moi needs a bit of time to complete moi’s bathroom activities. (Details will not be provided upon request.)
I’ve got a few things that came with the room and I just didn’t want to take next door. I’ve got a cot and an extra blanket. I’ve got three pillows that I’ll use after I get the pillow cases back from the laundry. And tomorrow I’ll find out how to do the laundry. I’ve got my clothes plus a big flat sheet-envelope that fits my blanket well. I’d use it but it smells like some strong perfume. A good wash will take that aroma away and I’ll use it. When I drop it off, I’ll ask about washing a big fluffy blanket, too.
I spent the afternoon scrubbing and cleaning and unpacking and organizing. Maybe tomorrow I’ll relax in the Ikea chairs and put my feet up on my footlocker with a cloth over it that I’m using as a coffee table. Moi desires to live a slightly civilized life, after all. My cold weather clothes are in the canvas bag that I brought from home. The closet doors are closed, making the place look tidy. If this were mine, I’d get a carpet cleaner and curtains for the windows. But since I’ll be here only five months, I’m satisfied with the way it is.
Moi would like to get something to watch TV with- a satellite maybe. And a few movies, too. A vacuum cleaner will be on my wish list, but at the bottom. KK, time for late chow.
When I went to the chow hall at 1800, someone else said the chow was delayed until 1930. At 1930, I went and got in but the place was nearly deserted. However, I got some pork in what tasted a bit like curry and some white rice with something like beef stew over it. Diced tomatoes were one side, diced peppers on another and something I couldn’t identify- kind of crispy yams, but without the sweetness. A bit bland, but the flavor that was there was nice. I took my time eating and when I got done, I was the last one there. I think they might have been delayed a bit, but not much. I had my mouth set for ice cream and did without. I took my opened Diet Coke and slipped another into my pocket for later. I don’t think it’s such a big thing but I don’t want to become a compulsive hoarder. I have a cookie and an apple and some peanut brittle and gum and a few cigars. Plenty of diversion for when the moment strikes my fancy.
When I went outside, Sandbag was there. He was about 30 feet away, looking at me. I made a noise with my tongue, clicking at him to come over. Another soldier, whom Sandbag recognized, got his attention for a moment, then Sandbag came over to me. I held my hand out to the side, so he could watch me and sniff my hand. Then he sniffed my holstered Beretta and turned around and sat down, letting me pet him on his neck and head. I think he liked it, but didn’t get all puppy-ish with pleasure. I think he’s a good dog. I’m glad someone got him a collar and some shots. Now I’ll have to look for something like bacon or tuna or some other people food that he might like to nibble.
We also have cats. I haven’t seen the white and tan cats with the ringtails but I’ve seen several grey cats, skittering along a bit antsy. I think they are less socialized to people. They probably scrounge what they can from the garbage and maybe prey on rodents who are attracted to the garbage as well but they don’t seem interested in people or in slowing down when they cross my path. I’m remembering the clutch of white and tan cats that patrolled past the place where Johnny and I had coffee- very attractive felines. There were several males ahead of a larger, heavier female. Not sure of the dynamics in that clan but the males seemed very equal in size. I told Johnny that when I get home to California, I want to find the pound and see if I can find a cat that looks like these ones- short-haired, cream-colored with tan splotches, ring-tails and a kind of chopped-off pointy nose.
See where Sandbag took me? I started out with scrubbing my room and ended up with wanting another cat in California, one that looks like an Iraqi cat.
Took a nice hot shower in my clean shower. Put on a long-sleeve thermal shirt to sleep in and my warm-up bottoms. Just in case my tootsies get cold, I put on the freebie socks that came in my first-class seat on the SFO-LHR flight. I didn’t shave because I’ll shave tomorrow morning before we go out. Tiny says we’ll see how the weekly passenger ferry processing goes. I’ll take my camera.
In a bit, I’ll brush my teeth and take my pills and play Hearts until I get sleepy. Then it’s time to close my eyes until tomorrow morning. All in all, I’ve got a pretty decent place to live here. Gotta find a way to get internet in my hooch but if I can only use the one that’s available to the entire camp, that’ll be OK. Tomorrow will be two days without checking emails, so my queue will be full. I’ll try to upload the last two days to my thumb drive so I can put ‘em in my blog and send ‘em to my big Richiesohn.
G’night, gentle reader.
Umm Qasr at last!
Umm Qasr 12262008
“How’d I get here” has to be my perpetual refrain. Right now, it’s 21:30 and I’m in an unusual place, one more page in my saga of post-divorce Sturm und Drang. Where am I, you might ask? Good question, that. I’m in my new hooch in the FOB Umm Qasr North.
Ah, but that might not seem so unusual unless you note the details associated with this mild-mannered statement. My hooch is a pre-fabricated steel container that has a single room, about 10 feet by 12 feet. In this area I have a medium top-and-bottom white refrigerator with two beds, two small chairs, a desk, a nightstand and a television that may or may not work. May or may not, you continue to ask in your perspicacious manner? Yes. Though the other hooches have power, mine does not. Apparently the electricity which the other half-dozen hooches have mine does not. So I semi-unpacked by flashlight, made my bed and began this entry with only the light from the laptop.
I flew an English fixed wing from Baghdad’s BIAP to Basrah Air Station. I stayed a few days in a nice hooch in Camp Harper. Tonight I flew from Basrah to Umm Qasr in an English Merlin helicopter. It looked small, not big enough for the 20 or so of us who were coming here. We made three stops letting a couple of Brits on and off at each stop. Several times when we were close to the ground, the pilot set off some flares. Hoo boy, dem flares were very bright! The ramp in back wasn’t closed so our crewman could man his machinegun and the brightness of the flares lit up the inside of the cabin as they left small white-hot squares of burning material behind us. When we got here, Tiny met me and helped me get my gear to the hooch. We walked less distance than I used to walk to take a shower at Gannon.
But I digress- let me outline the various conditions that strike me as unusual. I’m in my own hooch. In the dark. In Umm Qasr North where Brits have run things but where a few Army guys seem to be running the POETT. I got here, in a place I can’t easily get away from sitting in the dark cabin with a bunch of too-young-looking British soldiers, several of whom cheerfully helped me lug my stuff from the staging area to the helicopter and from the helicopter out to where we split up. I’m typing this by the light of my laptop. I brushed my teeth by the light of my flashlight. I ate some very tasty steak and fried chicken with potatoes and delicious onions. A handful of peanut brittle made by my Immigration buddy Johnny’s Thai wife in California and carried in my small brown rucksack whose oilstains from the leaky Marine stallion helicopter in August seem to have gone away.
The lights of Basrah tilted a lot this way and that way as the helicopter pilot left the airfield. No attempt to fly a straight line. We didn’t go very high nor very far, then we came down, dropped a bit of mail and a few Brits, took on a couple more Brits and left. Two more milk-run stops with Iraq’s night blinking through the cabin windows. Once again, I was literally rubbing elbows with people who had weapons and were 1/3 my age, going somewhere I couldn’t see, to do a job I haven’t done and my mind registers only the tilting horizon line composed of Iraq’s lights.
I’m siting in bed listening to the soundtrack of “Xanadu,” entranced by the magic of Gene Kelly and Olivia Newton-John singing about a real-life muse, a movie that came out while I lived overseas but which I watched on VHS when we moved home, back in a time when I was happy with my wife and my family felt complete, unified and cohesive. Now my estranged wife lives with my daughter and my small son; my big son and his girlfriend live in the house I can afford to keep only by working in Iraq.
Yep, life is strange. I feel like a snowflake in a Christmas globe, not sure where I’ll land in relation to the rest of the snowflakes. Less sure who shook my globe, less so of why the someone shook my globe. And to twist the ironic dagger in my mind’s heart, Jeri Southern is crooning to me, “When I give my heart, it will be completely or I’ll never give my heart.” Her 50’s sound is rich, warm, vibrant and talks to me of love and kisses and …. Hope.
Maybe if I outline what my senses are feeling, this will help settle the confusion. I’m seeing my laptop’s screen in the dark room. I’m hearing the soundtrack to “Xanadu” and Jeri Southern love songs. I’m smelling the ammonia that was in the toilet trailer this afternoon in Basrah. I’m feeling my sleeping bag under my legs while my California pillow supports my head. I’m still tasting the chicken that the cookhouse folks kept in an oven for us. I’m not touching anything but the keys of my laptop but I’m remembering what’s touched me recently, things like the kindness of the British Army lads and the contextual sights of flares and skylines and dust and noise.
Seems like my life is a cacophony of never-before and never-again factors- my children, my divorce, my job, my flights in lots of military aircraft, my poor timing in real estate matters, hostility associated with custody, and a strange acceptance of those things I can’t change. Maybe this is what getting old is like. Pity, too, since I might like to be with a woman again, just a few more times. I walked around Camp Harper, just talking with Johnny; I flew next to a Brit in a Merlin; I am in a new place with no idea what I’ll do but strangeness doesn’t seem to have quite the fear-inducing effect it once had.
Time to find my alarm and set it by flashlight for tomorrow’s breakfast with Tiny and a day of wandering around this part of the world, both professionally and emotionally. Fair dinkum life I’ve got these last few moments.
“How’d I get here” has to be my perpetual refrain. Right now, it’s 21:30 and I’m in an unusual place, one more page in my saga of post-divorce Sturm und Drang. Where am I, you might ask? Good question, that. I’m in my new hooch in the FOB Umm Qasr North.
Ah, but that might not seem so unusual unless you note the details associated with this mild-mannered statement. My hooch is a pre-fabricated steel container that has a single room, about 10 feet by 12 feet. In this area I have a medium top-and-bottom white refrigerator with two beds, two small chairs, a desk, a nightstand and a television that may or may not work. May or may not, you continue to ask in your perspicacious manner? Yes. Though the other hooches have power, mine does not. Apparently the electricity which the other half-dozen hooches have mine does not. So I semi-unpacked by flashlight, made my bed and began this entry with only the light from the laptop.
I flew an English fixed wing from Baghdad’s BIAP to Basrah Air Station. I stayed a few days in a nice hooch in Camp Harper. Tonight I flew from Basrah to Umm Qasr in an English Merlin helicopter. It looked small, not big enough for the 20 or so of us who were coming here. We made three stops letting a couple of Brits on and off at each stop. Several times when we were close to the ground, the pilot set off some flares. Hoo boy, dem flares were very bright! The ramp in back wasn’t closed so our crewman could man his machinegun and the brightness of the flares lit up the inside of the cabin as they left small white-hot squares of burning material behind us. When we got here, Tiny met me and helped me get my gear to the hooch. We walked less distance than I used to walk to take a shower at Gannon.
But I digress- let me outline the various conditions that strike me as unusual. I’m in my own hooch. In the dark. In Umm Qasr North where Brits have run things but where a few Army guys seem to be running the POETT. I got here, in a place I can’t easily get away from sitting in the dark cabin with a bunch of too-young-looking British soldiers, several of whom cheerfully helped me lug my stuff from the staging area to the helicopter and from the helicopter out to where we split up. I’m typing this by the light of my laptop. I brushed my teeth by the light of my flashlight. I ate some very tasty steak and fried chicken with potatoes and delicious onions. A handful of peanut brittle made by my Immigration buddy Johnny’s Thai wife in California and carried in my small brown rucksack whose oilstains from the leaky Marine stallion helicopter in August seem to have gone away.
The lights of Basrah tilted a lot this way and that way as the helicopter pilot left the airfield. No attempt to fly a straight line. We didn’t go very high nor very far, then we came down, dropped a bit of mail and a few Brits, took on a couple more Brits and left. Two more milk-run stops with Iraq’s night blinking through the cabin windows. Once again, I was literally rubbing elbows with people who had weapons and were 1/3 my age, going somewhere I couldn’t see, to do a job I haven’t done and my mind registers only the tilting horizon line composed of Iraq’s lights.
I’m siting in bed listening to the soundtrack of “Xanadu,” entranced by the magic of Gene Kelly and Olivia Newton-John singing about a real-life muse, a movie that came out while I lived overseas but which I watched on VHS when we moved home, back in a time when I was happy with my wife and my family felt complete, unified and cohesive. Now my estranged wife lives with my daughter and my small son; my big son and his girlfriend live in the house I can afford to keep only by working in Iraq.
Yep, life is strange. I feel like a snowflake in a Christmas globe, not sure where I’ll land in relation to the rest of the snowflakes. Less sure who shook my globe, less so of why the someone shook my globe. And to twist the ironic dagger in my mind’s heart, Jeri Southern is crooning to me, “When I give my heart, it will be completely or I’ll never give my heart.” Her 50’s sound is rich, warm, vibrant and talks to me of love and kisses and …. Hope.
Maybe if I outline what my senses are feeling, this will help settle the confusion. I’m seeing my laptop’s screen in the dark room. I’m hearing the soundtrack to “Xanadu” and Jeri Southern love songs. I’m smelling the ammonia that was in the toilet trailer this afternoon in Basrah. I’m feeling my sleeping bag under my legs while my California pillow supports my head. I’m still tasting the chicken that the cookhouse folks kept in an oven for us. I’m not touching anything but the keys of my laptop but I’m remembering what’s touched me recently, things like the kindness of the British Army lads and the contextual sights of flares and skylines and dust and noise.
Seems like my life is a cacophony of never-before and never-again factors- my children, my divorce, my job, my flights in lots of military aircraft, my poor timing in real estate matters, hostility associated with custody, and a strange acceptance of those things I can’t change. Maybe this is what getting old is like. Pity, too, since I might like to be with a woman again, just a few more times. I walked around Camp Harper, just talking with Johnny; I flew next to a Brit in a Merlin; I am in a new place with no idea what I’ll do but strangeness doesn’t seem to have quite the fear-inducing effect it once had.
Time to find my alarm and set it by flashlight for tomorrow’s breakfast with Tiny and a day of wandering around this part of the world, both professionally and emotionally. Fair dinkum life I’ve got these last few moments.
The Basrah Saga
Basrah 12242008
‘Tis Christmas Eve morning. Last night I came back from chow and fell asleep early. With no TV or radio, this isn’t difficult. I did, however, have my son’s music on my laptop and I borrowed the speakers left here.
Yesterday was interesting. Not yet 24 hours here, I went with the US Army military commander to a training center to be the Customs Expert. I geared up and we went in a nice, new MRAP. The Iraqis were very polite in their headquarters. Lots of different uniforms, some I recognized, some I didn’t. The meeting went on and on and I didn’t have a translator but I gathered that one of their problems is literacy- many new recruits can’t read or write and theses recruits are “must haves” in their ranks. Beyond that, they wanted training in fraud documents, something the termed “Customs” instead of “Immigration” or “Passport Control.”
When I got back, it was almost 1400, so the military guys walked me to DFAC 4, somewhere near their office with 5th Rifles. After chow, I drove back to our hooches compound, Camp Harper, only getting lost once or twice. My biggest mistake was in thinking I should take a left from the NAAFI building instead of a right. So when I found the NAAFI store, I went the wrong direction. But that was a five-minute error, no worse.
Got back, called Johnny and told him where I was, asking when we’d go to chow. He said around five-thirty. I lay down. At six, he woke me from a deep slumber, saying Nadi was waiting. I put on my boots and went to chow. I wasn’t really hungry but didn’t want to go from one lunch to the next without anything else. I ate some dry chicken and tasty fried tortilla and some mini carrots and veggies, opting to go without ice cream because of the carbs. We came back and I lay down (see above) and that was pretty much all I did last night except sleep. Let me see – a good two hours in the afternoon plus about nine or ten hours after chow. I guess sleep deprivation isn’t one of my issues.
In a bit I’ll take a shower and get cleaned up. I’ve got to find a laundry pretty soon, or else I’ll be washing my clothes in a bucket and letting them hang dry. Johnny says we can drop our clothes off in the morning and pick them up in the afternoon. But I haven’t had a chance to do that yet.
This is a different working environment for me. In Husaibah, there were the few Marines that I knew plus about 200 that I didn’t know so well, but we were all in the same desert boat, so nothing was strange or harsh. Here, there are many officers. And the Iraqis have a different level of resources- they have more rank and the concomitant infrastructure that goes with a higher level of authority. A bit like moving from a small border port to a headquarters environment. Wait, that’s precisely what I’ve done.
More later …
‘Tis Christmas Eve morning. Last night I came back from chow and fell asleep early. With no TV or radio, this isn’t difficult. I did, however, have my son’s music on my laptop and I borrowed the speakers left here.
Yesterday was interesting. Not yet 24 hours here, I went with the US Army military commander to a training center to be the Customs Expert. I geared up and we went in a nice, new MRAP. The Iraqis were very polite in their headquarters. Lots of different uniforms, some I recognized, some I didn’t. The meeting went on and on and I didn’t have a translator but I gathered that one of their problems is literacy- many new recruits can’t read or write and theses recruits are “must haves” in their ranks. Beyond that, they wanted training in fraud documents, something the termed “Customs” instead of “Immigration” or “Passport Control.”
When I got back, it was almost 1400, so the military guys walked me to DFAC 4, somewhere near their office with 5th Rifles. After chow, I drove back to our hooches compound, Camp Harper, only getting lost once or twice. My biggest mistake was in thinking I should take a left from the NAAFI building instead of a right. So when I found the NAAFI store, I went the wrong direction. But that was a five-minute error, no worse.
Got back, called Johnny and told him where I was, asking when we’d go to chow. He said around five-thirty. I lay down. At six, he woke me from a deep slumber, saying Nadi was waiting. I put on my boots and went to chow. I wasn’t really hungry but didn’t want to go from one lunch to the next without anything else. I ate some dry chicken and tasty fried tortilla and some mini carrots and veggies, opting to go without ice cream because of the carbs. We came back and I lay down (see above) and that was pretty much all I did last night except sleep. Let me see – a good two hours in the afternoon plus about nine or ten hours after chow. I guess sleep deprivation isn’t one of my issues.
In a bit I’ll take a shower and get cleaned up. I’ve got to find a laundry pretty soon, or else I’ll be washing my clothes in a bucket and letting them hang dry. Johnny says we can drop our clothes off in the morning and pick them up in the afternoon. But I haven’t had a chance to do that yet.
This is a different working environment for me. In Husaibah, there were the few Marines that I knew plus about 200 that I didn’t know so well, but we were all in the same desert boat, so nothing was strange or harsh. Here, there are many officers. And the Iraqis have a different level of resources- they have more rank and the concomitant infrastructure that goes with a higher level of authority. A bit like moving from a small border port to a headquarters environment. Wait, that’s precisely what I’ve done.
More later …
Klecker to Basrah
Basrah 12212008
It’s 03:43 in Basrah. How’d I get here? Good story- All day long the internet at Klecker was spotty. We’d get wireless for an hour, then it would fade for two hours. Then the wireless would be good and fast for five minutes, then in the middle of an email, the signal would go away. So after some less-than-successful Hearts, I went to chow at 17:00. Everett was going to go with, but he disappeared. I got on the bus by myself and went to chow. The food was adequate but not memorable. After chow, I took the bus back to Klecker where the internet was back up. There were four or five emails from Johnny to Cameron and back about my trip tonight. Yes, in about three hours, I’d have to be at BIAP ready to go. I ran to Cameron and got his help with the armorer, who’d gone home and didn’t plan to be back until tomorrow. But while he was on his way, I packed everything. I didn’t get to mail anything home, so I ended up with an extra duffel bag. However, the task wasn’t so odious. The footlocker had just a bit of extra gear that I had to bring- the gas mask, some extra vest plates, etc. During the day, I’d done a wash, so I had no dirty clothes except the ones I was wearing. The pile of clean clothes went into the large rucksack. The footlocker got the cold weather clothes I’d brought from California and my extra boots, tennies and krocs. The canvas bag I used as a check-in bag from California went into the footlocker too. Finally, I crammed my personal pillow (that my Richiesohn sent me from home) into the top of the duffel bag. My small brown rucksack carried all the small miscellaneous stuff like my prescriptions, glasses, my screwdriver and leather sewing needle, kind of my “junk drawer.” Four pieces of luggage, but no one was very heavy. And the footlocker rolled.
Our driver asked if I wanted to go to the PX with him. He works nights driving people to the various locations where they fly from and I think doesn’t get to talk much with people, so I said “sure.” We went to the PX where he shopped for movies and nearly got an amplified speaker for his home. Then we came back to Klecker. While I was bringing my stuff over to the porch, he said he needed gas. Around nine-thirty, he came back and we drove to the British side of the terminal. He showed me how to check my bags with the Brits and I got the standard treatment with my weapons- they loaded all my magazines with ammo and my belt knife into a sack, then put that into an ammo can. I’d get that back at the other end. Then we waited. And waited. And dozed and waited. Finally, one of the Brits mad an announcement. The Americans needed an interpreter. Something about Basra folks get on last. We marched out the door and down to the plane. Not a stroll, a real fast walk. After a few minutes, I was huffing and puffing. Not painfully, but I guess my stamina isn’t what it used to be- nothing but my gear and guns and my laptop bag and a fast walk make me huff and puff. The 22:05 flight left at 01:00. The seats were all right, two rows lengthwise in the front of the plane, then one row on each side aft. I got the last of the double rows along the bulkhead. The skinny Brit crewman talked to us through a decent amplified system, telling us that in the event of a water landing, oh never mind- we wouldn’t be over water. Otherwise, he pointed out the emergency exits and told us to put our heads on our knees and cover up. If we couldn’t do that (I sure couldn’t with all the gear on), then we should just sit up and pay attention to the crew’s instructions.
Now it gets a bit fun. The plane taxied a bit, then we just waited. Then a bit more taxiing and a bit more waiting. Then the pilot opened the throttles and we accelerated very hard. I was surprised at the power we had. I steadied myself by putting my left hand out onto the bulkhead. We lifted off at a fairly steep angle and kept that angle for a few minutes. When we leveled off, we were fairly high in the air. I looked at my left hand, the one that held the buttstock of my M-4, covered with the nomex gloves that Doc Glawe gave me at Gannon. The interior lights made my hand look an eerie green but beyond my hand, the plane was dark. My ears popped a few times, then the motors settled into a very precise, rhythmic, high-pitched sound that didn’t waiver until we began our descent. Maybe because I was tired, I slept. Not well, though, because the seats weren’t all that comfortable. Towards the end of the flight, I noticed the soldier next to me lean over towards the guy on his right- someone was playing a video game. These kids were geared up for war and were playing videos. “Welcome to war in the 21st century,” I told myself.
Touchdown was nice and easy. I think we taxied about a mile or more. I was thinking to myself, “Hey, we don’t need to fly to Basrah, we just drove there.” But I was impatient. When we got to where the plane didn’t roll any more, we piled out and into a tall tour bus. Though I’m not big, I had trouble navigating the aisle of the bus with my gear. I kept catching the laptop bag or my rifle on the armrests of the seats as I stumbled by. We single-filed into the terminal where a very pretty British girl made another unintelligible announcement, something about “fall on the ground and cover your ears” but no one quite knew why she was making this announcement.
As I was wandering around the terminal, I heard Johnny’s voice: “Bubba!” I turned and said, “Johnny!” And he motioned me over to him. He said we’d get my gear after this briefing. I didn’t mind the briefing because I had an excuse to focus on the briefer; the British gal was very pretty. We went outside and found my four pieces of luggage. Then we took them to his SUV. We went back for my ammo. He drove to our compound, an Army Seals place. He gave me Everett’s hooch because Everett is on his way home and won’t need it for a lot longer time than I’ll be using it. I took some photos of this place. Johnny’s place is much more comfortable – he has television and a microwave. This place doesn’t even have a radio. But it’s just for a day or two, so I won’t gripe much about the lack of music. If I start jonesing for television, I can watch TV at Johnny’s hooch.
Once again, I found myself with people who are physically much more fit than I am. And the novelty is wearing off. I’m on my way to Umm Qasr in a couple of days. I’ll do what I can there. I’ll try to finish my contract and see what I might do after this.
Good night, gentle reader.
It’s 03:43 in Basrah. How’d I get here? Good story- All day long the internet at Klecker was spotty. We’d get wireless for an hour, then it would fade for two hours. Then the wireless would be good and fast for five minutes, then in the middle of an email, the signal would go away. So after some less-than-successful Hearts, I went to chow at 17:00. Everett was going to go with, but he disappeared. I got on the bus by myself and went to chow. The food was adequate but not memorable. After chow, I took the bus back to Klecker where the internet was back up. There were four or five emails from Johnny to Cameron and back about my trip tonight. Yes, in about three hours, I’d have to be at BIAP ready to go. I ran to Cameron and got his help with the armorer, who’d gone home and didn’t plan to be back until tomorrow. But while he was on his way, I packed everything. I didn’t get to mail anything home, so I ended up with an extra duffel bag. However, the task wasn’t so odious. The footlocker had just a bit of extra gear that I had to bring- the gas mask, some extra vest plates, etc. During the day, I’d done a wash, so I had no dirty clothes except the ones I was wearing. The pile of clean clothes went into the large rucksack. The footlocker got the cold weather clothes I’d brought from California and my extra boots, tennies and krocs. The canvas bag I used as a check-in bag from California went into the footlocker too. Finally, I crammed my personal pillow (that my Richiesohn sent me from home) into the top of the duffel bag. My small brown rucksack carried all the small miscellaneous stuff like my prescriptions, glasses, my screwdriver and leather sewing needle, kind of my “junk drawer.” Four pieces of luggage, but no one was very heavy. And the footlocker rolled.
Our driver asked if I wanted to go to the PX with him. He works nights driving people to the various locations where they fly from and I think doesn’t get to talk much with people, so I said “sure.” We went to the PX where he shopped for movies and nearly got an amplified speaker for his home. Then we came back to Klecker. While I was bringing my stuff over to the porch, he said he needed gas. Around nine-thirty, he came back and we drove to the British side of the terminal. He showed me how to check my bags with the Brits and I got the standard treatment with my weapons- they loaded all my magazines with ammo and my belt knife into a sack, then put that into an ammo can. I’d get that back at the other end. Then we waited. And waited. And dozed and waited. Finally, one of the Brits mad an announcement. The Americans needed an interpreter. Something about Basra folks get on last. We marched out the door and down to the plane. Not a stroll, a real fast walk. After a few minutes, I was huffing and puffing. Not painfully, but I guess my stamina isn’t what it used to be- nothing but my gear and guns and my laptop bag and a fast walk make me huff and puff. The 22:05 flight left at 01:00. The seats were all right, two rows lengthwise in the front of the plane, then one row on each side aft. I got the last of the double rows along the bulkhead. The skinny Brit crewman talked to us through a decent amplified system, telling us that in the event of a water landing, oh never mind- we wouldn’t be over water. Otherwise, he pointed out the emergency exits and told us to put our heads on our knees and cover up. If we couldn’t do that (I sure couldn’t with all the gear on), then we should just sit up and pay attention to the crew’s instructions.
Now it gets a bit fun. The plane taxied a bit, then we just waited. Then a bit more taxiing and a bit more waiting. Then the pilot opened the throttles and we accelerated very hard. I was surprised at the power we had. I steadied myself by putting my left hand out onto the bulkhead. We lifted off at a fairly steep angle and kept that angle for a few minutes. When we leveled off, we were fairly high in the air. I looked at my left hand, the one that held the buttstock of my M-4, covered with the nomex gloves that Doc Glawe gave me at Gannon. The interior lights made my hand look an eerie green but beyond my hand, the plane was dark. My ears popped a few times, then the motors settled into a very precise, rhythmic, high-pitched sound that didn’t waiver until we began our descent. Maybe because I was tired, I slept. Not well, though, because the seats weren’t all that comfortable. Towards the end of the flight, I noticed the soldier next to me lean over towards the guy on his right- someone was playing a video game. These kids were geared up for war and were playing videos. “Welcome to war in the 21st century,” I told myself.
Touchdown was nice and easy. I think we taxied about a mile or more. I was thinking to myself, “Hey, we don’t need to fly to Basrah, we just drove there.” But I was impatient. When we got to where the plane didn’t roll any more, we piled out and into a tall tour bus. Though I’m not big, I had trouble navigating the aisle of the bus with my gear. I kept catching the laptop bag or my rifle on the armrests of the seats as I stumbled by. We single-filed into the terminal where a very pretty British girl made another unintelligible announcement, something about “fall on the ground and cover your ears” but no one quite knew why she was making this announcement.
As I was wandering around the terminal, I heard Johnny’s voice: “Bubba!” I turned and said, “Johnny!” And he motioned me over to him. He said we’d get my gear after this briefing. I didn’t mind the briefing because I had an excuse to focus on the briefer; the British gal was very pretty. We went outside and found my four pieces of luggage. Then we took them to his SUV. We went back for my ammo. He drove to our compound, an Army Seals place. He gave me Everett’s hooch because Everett is on his way home and won’t need it for a lot longer time than I’ll be using it. I took some photos of this place. Johnny’s place is much more comfortable – he has television and a microwave. This place doesn’t even have a radio. But it’s just for a day or two, so I won’t gripe much about the lack of music. If I start jonesing for television, I can watch TV at Johnny’s hooch.
Once again, I found myself with people who are physically much more fit than I am. And the novelty is wearing off. I’m on my way to Umm Qasr in a couple of days. I’ll do what I can there. I’ll try to finish my contract and see what I might do after this.
Good night, gentle reader.
