Hillah, Iraq.
Another travel day today as we head to glorious….Baghdad! However, a trip to Baghdad is not exciting enough unless you do it in a sandstorm!
For comparison:
(Notice the new C-Hut?)
For comparison:
For comparison:
“Sandstorm” is a misnomer. They aren’t really sandstorms. They are dust storms. Keep in mind that there is a wealth of sand here. I mean lots of sand. This is one of major storage areas for the Global Strategic Sand Reserves. There is enough sand that I am tempted at times to get a thumper and ride with my Fremen brothers.
And in a bit of happy news for allergy sufferers, sand breaks down into dust. You think there is sand in Iraq? There is even more dust. Dust that gets into everything. Dust that gets in all parts of you and your stuff. So much dust that you know about it for weeks. It is in your clothes, your bed, your food, your body parts. If there were an Olympic Booger Team, they would train here. Now imagine the upgunners that have to ride standing in the exposed turret of the humvee for two hours going to Baghdad. The fact that the Marines never complained about it was inspiring. As Lance Corporal Lowe put it: “Oo-rah all day dust storm!” And who could complain with hours of nose hockey to look forward to!
Rolling in a sandstorm is a mixed blessing. You can’t see bad guys trying to attack you. But, they can’t see you either, so basically it is a day off for everybody, with the game called for weather.
We loaded up the humvees, rode over to the maintenance depot for some supplies, and rolled up to a camp between Camp Charlie and Baghdad. We went there to visit another Special Forces team. This other team has also been working with the SWAT units, and the SF guys wanted to compare notes. I was hoping to meet someone from the helicopter unit stationed there in the hope we could start doing some work together, but they weren’t available.
While we were there, the engineers (engineers is the Army term for “guys that blow stuff up”, which is funny because engineers traditionally build things) learned that some of the flash bang grenades we have are defective, and may explode prematurely. In military terms, this is “bad”. So, what do you do with a bunch of bad flash bang grenades? Why, detonate them, of course! In case you are wondering how one goes about detonating possibly defective grenades, the process appears to involve some sand bags, parachute cord, duct tape, a long piece of angle iron, and some rubber bands. At first I was a bit skeptical. I watched this exciting episode right up until the first grenade went off, spraying gravel everywhere. No longer skeptical at all, I then chose to seek my entertainment elsewhere, exploring the delights of the other side of the armored humvee.
Notes compared and gravel sprayed, we loaded up for Baghdad.A quick note on why there are no pictures of Baghdad. I started to take pictures, but then it occurred to me that I should probably attach a note to my camera in case it got lost:
Dear Insurgent(s):
Thanks for finding my camera. I have taken the liberty of photographing all
the targets of interest in the camp, so you won’t have to waste ammunition
blowing up the bathrooms.
Make sure you spell my name right on the Al-Jazeera press release.
Yours in unintentional surveillance,
Me
And what could possibly go wrong posting to the internet pictures with titles
like:
Building_where_all_the_decision_makers_work.jpg
Building_where_everybody_eats_lunch_from_1100_to_1330.jpg
Big_Fuel_Farm_That_Is_Highly_Flammable_And_Explosive.jpg
So, you will have to do with a narrative only.
In short, it sucks to be a soldier, sailor, Marine, or airman in Baghdad. The areas of Iraq under Coalition Nation control are sponsored by KBR, so we live in air conditioned trailers inside nice walled compounds. The areas under direct US control are not so nice. Those guys are living in tents, just like in MASH. The tents are air conditioned, but then again, so are convertibles. The troops have to wear their body armor pretty much anytime they are outside, as well as carry their weapons. I saw one guy riding a bike in the 110 degree heat, wearing his body armor, rifle, and Kevlar helmet.
Baghdad is also, as you may have suspected, where a lot of unit headquarters are located. For those not in the military, the further away you are from The Flagpole and all headquarters types, the better life is. I suddenly felt scruffy because my sleeves were rolled up, I haven’t had a haircut in a month, and I was covered in dust from the drive. Headquarters areas are big on saluting and hat wearing, and it was by chance that I happened to bring a cover and any uniform devices to show my rank and warfare specialties. So, I put on all my flair (the Marines call rank insignia and warfare pins “bling bling”), and properly blinged up, we went to get something to eat.
I was standing in the chow line when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Who should be standing in line next to me but Jarrett, the guy who lived across the street from me growing up, and who I had last seen in San Antonio right before we both went to Iraq. He is with a certain naval commando unit that does SEa, Air, and Land work (I don’t want to name the outfit for security reasons). He was doing well, and we had a nice chat. His unit hasn’t done that much since being in country (he was amazed at all the actual combat missions I have done), but he hopes to do something soon. It was great seeing him, and amazing given how many military guys are over here.
After chow, we went to the SF headquarters. The SF guys needed to get more operating money. Levi found the guy who runs the pool at the SF HQ. This guy wouldn’t hook us up with anything, but he did give us the contact info of his source in Baghdad. The place is called the Baghdad Pool Company, so they will probably be able to meet our needs. We opted not to go to the BPC today, as Baghdad is a pain to drive around in, and the pool guy will deliver anyway. All we need to do is get some money for the filter and chemicals, and we are finally in a position to realize Step 6a of Levi’s Buff and Tan Plan.The SF guys also took care of a bunch of administrative stuff, and I took the opportunity to sample their wide selection of Maxim, FHM, and Stuff. I helped an SF guy out with an Excel spreadsheet, which earned me a “Thanks, sir. You’re the heat.” I am assuming that “the heat” is a compliment, as the SF guys use it as a compliment with each other. But you can never tell with Army guys.
We took the stuff (radio gear) we picked up at the maintenance depot to get installed on our humvees, then drove off to the base exchange. I got to drive the humvee over there, which was pretty awesome. Humvees are amazingly rugged 4×4 behemoths. With the armor and turrets, they are very top heavy. Additionally, they are much, much wider than anything I have ever driven. I felt like I was weaving ponderously between the ditches as we lumbered down the streets. However, when you are driving a highly armored car with a heavy machine gun, people get out of your way.
The exchanges in Baghdad are awesome. Well, it isn’t really, but considering our exchange in Camp Charlie is a single semi trailer, this place seemed amazing. They were selling patches out front. A popular patch is done in desert colors, with “Operation Iraqi Freedom” stitched under various national flags. In addition to the flags of the US, Britain, Australia, Poland, and all the other coalition nations, there was one with the Texas flag. The only state flag I saw, and of course it was Texas. The patches were $4, which seemed steep at the time, so I didn’t buy any, although now I wish I had. If you want one with a US or Texas flag, let me know, I will pick one up when I am back there.
The exchange also hosted a Burger King, a Subway, and a Cinnabon. I got a big ole Whopper (by the way, the chicken sandwich is called a Royale With Cheese. Yes, I am serious. Julius and Vincent were not available for comment, but the Burger King did have mayo for the fries) and went out to the vehicles to relieve the Marines from security watch (a base full of armed combatants, but you have to keep an eye on your gear) so they could go get something to eat. We all ended up sitting in the car eating, watching the people come and go. The Marines have a joke about Cammie Disease: when you put on cammies, you get hungry, tired, and Motown, which was really true as we sat eating and dozing in the humvee. The SF guys bought laptops at the exchange, which prompted one of the Marines to observe:
“Bro, I need to get an f#@&ing external hard drive.”
Listening to junior Marines talk about computers was one of the funniest things
I had heard in a while.
“Bro, what the hell do you need a f#@&ing external hard drive for?”
“Bro, my sh*t in my laptop is f#@&ing full.”
“Bro, your f#@& hard drive is 60 f#@&ing gigabytes, bro.”
“Like I don’t f#@&ing know that, bro?”
“Bro, have you cleaned out your f#@&ing temp files?”
“Hell, yeah. 2 f#@&ing gigs worth, bro.”
“Bro, you gotta clean out your f#@&ing temporary internet files. That sh*t
fills up quick.”
“Bro, I did, and it only freed up 25 f#@&ing megabytes. F#@&ing MEGAytes, bro.”
“Bro, what do you have on there?” (the rare expletive free sentence)
“Bro, I got f#@&ing 20 gigs worth of MP3s, and another 25 f#@& gigs (Gigs, bro)
of f#@&ing porn.”
“Bro, what do you need 20 gigs worth of f#@&ing MP3s for?”
“Working out, bro.”
“What do you need with 25 f#@&ing gigs worth of porn for, bro?”
“After working out.”
Before they could delve into the mysteries of electronic storage further, everybody was done, and we went back to the HQ to get the SF money paperwork, then rolled out of town. It was an uneventful ride back to Camp, and, overall, a fun day. Man, I am glad I am not in Baghdad.