Thursday, December 03, 2009
Bucca Ennui
Today was a fairly normal work day- went to the JIATF and found a source for a wheelchair for one of my KLEs. His son needs the chair to get around. Here on the camp, if you need a wheelchair, you won't stay here, so there aren't any wheelchairs. But a bit of networking got me some assurance that one is in my KLE's future. Other admin chores got ironed out- my pay got returned from the credit union, my itinerary for my vacation, the one guy who's going to replace the BEA who left a couple of months ago, and I snagged the keys to the JIATF pick-up truck. And that takes us to this bit of ennui.
Tonight I drove the pickup and took Greg, the Aussie who's my partner, and Paul, an IPA who came to Iraq with me, out to the helo pad because they're leaving for vacation tonight. This means I'm the only one in four clumps of boardwalk hooches. Feels a bit like I'm the last man on earth. Oh, there are still lots more people here. My cerebral side knows I'm far from alone. But it *feels* like there's no one left but me. Tomorrow I'll go up to the office and do what I can, getting ready for Friday's trip to the port with Rich, the DHS guy who's going out to the cargo side. I've got a few more patrols before I, too, take myself out to the helo pad and start my three-legged trip to Baghdad, then on to California.
Iraq's nights remain gorgeous. Sure, it's cold out there, but it's a clear, out-to-the stars kind of cold. I look down a bit, and I see my Iraq- the inside of a military compound. Not so bad, a little piece of America in the middle of a foreign and occasionally hostile country. The moon last night was full, and very orange. And it came up above the chow hall, grey and hulking in the distance, beyond the hesco walls everywhere. I tried to reconcile the manufactured hulk of the chow hall with the naturally bright moon's color. Made me think, someone out there has a sense of irony and humor, putting those two items next to each other, and using that particular palette.
In a bit, I'll brush my teeth and try to get some sleep for tomorrow, to see if I can sleep my way out of this flu that's now just a cold. But I'll think about going home, the color of the moon, and the more tangible isolation I'm experiencing tonight.
Tonight I drove the pickup and took Greg, the Aussie who's my partner, and Paul, an IPA who came to Iraq with me, out to the helo pad because they're leaving for vacation tonight. This means I'm the only one in four clumps of boardwalk hooches. Feels a bit like I'm the last man on earth. Oh, there are still lots more people here. My cerebral side knows I'm far from alone. But it *feels* like there's no one left but me. Tomorrow I'll go up to the office and do what I can, getting ready for Friday's trip to the port with Rich, the DHS guy who's going out to the cargo side. I've got a few more patrols before I, too, take myself out to the helo pad and start my three-legged trip to Baghdad, then on to California.
Iraq's nights remain gorgeous. Sure, it's cold out there, but it's a clear, out-to-the stars kind of cold. I look down a bit, and I see my Iraq- the inside of a military compound. Not so bad, a little piece of America in the middle of a foreign and occasionally hostile country. The moon last night was full, and very orange. And it came up above the chow hall, grey and hulking in the distance, beyond the hesco walls everywhere. I tried to reconcile the manufactured hulk of the chow hall with the naturally bright moon's color. Made me think, someone out there has a sense of irony and humor, putting those two items next to each other, and using that particular palette.
In a bit, I'll brush my teeth and try to get some sleep for tomorrow, to see if I can sleep my way out of this flu that's now just a cold. But I'll think about going home, the color of the moon, and the more tangible isolation I'm experiencing tonight.
