Tuesday, March 28th, 2006 - Deployment, Day 3
Camp Buehring, Kuwait
Well, I'm here. And 'here', I'm sorry to say, is not that sweet. Kuwait is a desolate, sandy, and dusty little shit hole of a place. I've spent the last 48 hours trying to simply grasp the fact that I'm literally in the middle east - a thought that still makes me shake my head in disbelief every time I go outside, look at the swirling dust, and feel the arid heat of the desert while walking around. I can't lie - this place is depressing. It's no wonder this part of the world is so volatile. If I lived here full time, I would probably find an extremist religion, get angry at the drop of a hat, and start blowing shit up as well. And the fact that I've come to this conclusion so quickly is as depressing as this place itself.
Gwendolyn warned me of these conditions, of course, but I'm finding out that the difference between hearing a description and living it is immense.
My journey here was no picnic either. It started back in El Paso, Texas, of course, last Friday. Mama and Papa Stup came out to visit me in El Paso, and I was able to have dinner with them on Thursday night and then have lunch and do some errands early Friday. It was good to see my parents, as always, and simply having them around made me forget my situation, at least for a few hours during the dinner Thursday night. My last drink of alcohol for the foreseeable future was a glass of red wine from a bottle that I shared with my mom. I could use another glass right about now.
My parents dropped me off about a half hour prior to my "formation" at 16:00 that Friday. And then the long and painful (and did I mention long?) journey to Kuwait began. It started, as all military things do, with a formation and a line. We had to line up all our checked bags (I carried 3 duffels and my laptop bag carry on) in a parking lot. After that, we had a formation. Then we formed a line, and walked through testing the size of our carry on bag in a yellow crate. If it didn't fit, you couldn't take it, no exceptions. Then, after that line kept moving, we had
another formation on the other side of the same damn parking lot, still facing our bags. This all took at least 2 hours. It was maddening, and only the beginning.
Then the powers that be unleashed the hounds (the bomb-sniffing kind) on our bags. And while the German sheppards ran through the rows sniffing away, my friend Rob and I joked that it would be hilarious if they just started ripping into bags, ripping out underwear and clothes, and basically started scattering things everywhere while the handlers fought to get them under control. We also thought it would be funny if the dogs lifted their legs over some poor bastard's bag and let loose. Alas, neither happened, but these are the sorts of things one does to occupy one's mind while standing in endless formations. We just stood and waited while the dogs ran down the rows. And nothing really came of it.
After THAT formation, the bags were loaded onto a huge truck and we had to do a "police call" around the entire area, picking up trash. Then we had to do the same inside of the CRC building. After that, we lined up and got our weapons - M16's for the enlisted folks and 9mm's for the officers. I received my trusty "nine" (still trying to find a name for it), realizing it would need to be more or less at my side for likely the next 6 months like a literal modern-day ball and chain.
After that, we loaded onto buses and tracked over to the airport. The level of surreality was increasing the entire time. My friend Rob was also getting ill with some sort of pneumonia, and was feeling worse by the minute. It was when we got to the airport (which was an army air field, not the El Paso airport) that I first saw the massive plane that was to carry some 300 of us to the desert. It sat alone on the tarmac, just an ominous sight beyond words. At that point, we offloaded the buses and had to go through a mini-security of sorts. First, our carry on bags were dropped off and then surveyed by the dogs. (
In my head, all I could keep singing was, "Who let the bomb dogs out...who...who...."). After that, we lined up and were told to empty our pockets and everything else metal into a little basket. Then we carried said basket to a row of guys who had little electronic wands. We were searched and the wands waved over us. The whole time I was thinking, "Uh, there's a 9-mm and a 3 inch knife in my basket, and the guy next to me has an M-16 on the floor - what the hell else could you possibly be looking for?" But instead, I just stood there quietly. Surprising, and despite my thoughts, no
individuals were actually sniffed by the dogs.
After we were searched, we were given a "last meal" of sorts, which was a crappy cafeteria style steak, despite the NCO cadre having told us it would be "really good." (Those guys need to get out more.) Then we sat around talking for a bit, and not so eagerly awaiting the next formation, line, or briefing. Turns out it was a briefing up next. We sat in a gym-style bleachers while we were addressed by some hard-assed female SGT. We learned about our flight pattern and layover routine (which was classified informationat the time, apparently). Then some one-star general came out and gave a propaganda-laced pep talk that sounded rehearsed, passionless, and more than a little condescending to anyone with half a brain.
Then came the final roll call to begin boarding the plane. We were a combined group of civilian contractors and military personnel - all individual replacements to scattered units throughout the theater. My name, being near the end of the alphabet, was hence called near the end. When it was called, I gathered my things and walked outside. There were a few people shaking everyone's hand as we walked out and saying "Come back safe" and the like. After that, it was a good quarter-mile hike out to the plane itself. By this time it was about midnight in Texas. The air was cool, and the there was something very eerie about that long walk to the plane. Near the end, there were others waiting to shake our hands, including the aforementioned General Pep-talk. After shaking more hands, I went up the ramp and boarded the plane.
The plane belonged to a civilian carrier called "Omni Airlines", which I'm told holds the government contract on most of these flights. (
Can you say lowest bidder?) It was, as I said, a large plane. There were no first class seats. I was placed into a window seat, for which I was thankful given my anticipated needs for sleep. There was an empty seat between me and the guy in the aisle, something again I was thankful for. I decided that sitting on a plane for countless hours with a 9-mm handgun strapped to my leg was going to be uncomfortable, so I took it off and tossed it in the middle seat. My friend John mentioned this, but I must re-iterate that in this anti-terrorism day and age, it was more than a little jacked up to see a plane full of countless guns lying everywhere. The flight crew were all civilians, and seemed friendly enough, as if nothing was amiss about a group of 300 heavily armed people who were about to take off and fly the friendly skies.
We took off from El Paso about 1 am or so. Our travel itinerary was like this.:El Paso to Maine - a 4 hour flight. Then a 2 hour layover. Then over to Germany (what a slap in the face) - an 8 hour flight. Then a 2 hour layover. Boarding the plane that last time in Germany was something else. That was the last leg - next stop - Kuwait. Ugh. It was before that 5 hour flight (about midnight, Kuwait time, by that point) that I decided to pop an ambien to help myself get to sleep and also to fight the increasing waves of depression. We ended up flying due south from Europe. When I woke up, we had about 45 minutes left of the flight. The captain took us directly over Iraq and I could see the lights of the country while we headed downward. When we landed in Kuwait City, the sun was just creeping up. We stepped off the plane. And there I was - smack dab in the fucking middle east.
Of course, the Army adventures didn't stop there. We were first bused to a rest area, still in the airport (which is a combined military and civilian airport - we were on the military side of course), where we were allowed to walk about, use the restroom (port-a-potties), and stretch our legs. At this point, most people, including myself, were ridiculously jet lagged and also a little depressed. And also by this point, my friend Rob was coughing uncontrollably and having full chills with rigors. He basically said it was the worst 48 hours of his life. Oh, and his daughter was about 2 weeks old that day. Awesome.
So Rob, and two other docs and I just sat at this table, adjusting our sunglasses, and staring about at the dank dusthole that is Kuwait. After that, we loaded up the buses again, and we were off to some Air Force Camp about an hour from the airport. I was staring out the window of the bus, on the dusty and bumpy ride. I must have been in stage 3 or 4 of the full grief cycle by that point - and certainly a part of it was fatigue. Wow, did that suck. I remember seeing a herd of camels off the side of the road as we drove past. Then I fell asleep again. Ironically, or perhaps fittingly, "Highway to Hell" came randomly onto my iPOD.
When we arrived at Camp Airforce (I forget the name), it was about 10:00 am, and we had yet another damn formation, out in the blazing sun at this point (its already about 85 degrees here during the day - on its way up to the legendary 140 degrees (no shit) which will happen later this summer), while the in-processing people tried to get their act together. After getting my neck sun-burned, we walked in a large tent, got "swiped in" to country, and then sat around and had another hour of briefings while trying to pound water. Following that, we had some lunch, and the local Army personnel tried to figure out where everybody was going. By 13:00, I had my 3 duffles from the plane back in my possession, and I was on aonther bus, driving another hour, out here to Camp Buehring.
Upon arrival, we got briefed (again) and were left to our own devices. By this point, I was only with a few of my original crew, and my friend Rob and several other docs were already on their way somewhere else. I couldn't convey to the in-processing guy here in the transition area that I was actually stationed here, so when he gave us some down time I began exploring the post. Eventually, I found the doc I was replacing, and he snapped his fingers and then we were picking up my stuff from the transitional area (lots of people are staged here prior to going up to Iraq) and brought it over here to my quarters. That night, the doc took me around and showed me the post. He was about as happy to see me as I was miserable to be here. (I'm his ticket out of here, of course.) Then, exhausted, I went to sleep for about 15 hours. I woke up the next day and it wasn't all a bad dream. No, I was still here.
And here I am. But, as it turns out, not for our long. Several weeks ago the actual battalion I'm assigned to pushed forward into Iraq for additional security in some region near Baghdad. My boy Pete went with them, as did my the physician's assistant who I will be working with (and sharing a room with) during my time here. I'm to meet up with them in the near future. So now I'm exploring this post, and awaiting my travels up north, which should occur in the next week or so.
I'm not particularly pumped to go into Iraq, obviously, because it's a lot more dangerous than Kuwait. And traveling itself represents the biggest danger. So here we go again. I'm not sure how long I'll be up there - I've heard anything from 1 week to 60 days. Hopefully not too long. And because of this transitioning I'll be doing, i have no real address as of yet, so stay tuned for that.
And with that, I'm tired of typing, for now. More to follow. I think that writing this will keep me sane. I've got a "nine" strapped to my leg, and my dog tags are perpetually on. Wow, how things in my life have changed...
To be continued.
PS - Forgot to bring my camera to load up my pictures. Next time, I guess.
