Sunday, December 28, 2008
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.
# posted by rich @ 7:43 AM 
