Liberty is Secured

The base Commanding Officer yelled at us yesterday.

We’ve been drinking to excess. We’ve been going to neighborhoods where the bad guys hang out. We’ve been visiting brothels, and tattoo parlors and nightclubs that have been specified as off limits. We’ve been violating curfew, exceeding our three beers a day drinking limit, and not maintaining a designated driver.

Liberty has been secured.


Honest, it wasn’t me, and most of these problems occurred before we even landed in Africa. However, these several lapses in situational awareness and operational security caused a mandatory training response for all personnel from the camp command element. It opened with the skipper giving a rather stern lecture, then another fifty minutes of slides and further lecture by a collection of chiefs and lieutenants.

Typically, I don’t listen too hard to lieutenants, but this is a Navy facility, so their lieutenants look a lot like captains everywhere else. In fact, the captain looked a lot like a Colonel, so most folks sat up straight when addressed, even if it was for a dressing down. The trouble is that, in the Navy, they have their own set of ranks, but for some reason use the same insignia as the rest of our armed forces. So when you see two bars, you’d think to call him, “Captain”, but that would only be unnecessarily promoting a Lieutenant. Majors are really Lieutenant Commanders. Second Lieutenants are really Ensigns. Brigadier Generals are Rear Admirals, Bottom Half. Of course, when they’re in their dress whites, the insignia change. As a result, they’re all “sir”.

Moving right along.

The bulk of the lecture was an AntiTerrorism refresher. While there’re not active hostilities against the United States in Djibouti, there are plenty of folks here who would prefer that we’d be somewhere else. As such, every excursion off base must be performed with a heightened situational awareness (like driving through Topeka at night). The lecture outlined what current local risks could be expected and how to position oneself to avoid, mitigate, or survive the encounter. Once everyone sits through the training, Liberty may be unsecured.

However, since we were now thoroughly trained, and on Camp business, we commandeered an SUV and interpreter and headed into town on a data collection mission. Although it progressed without incident, there was a great deal of trepidation from one of ours as to the likelihood of us coming back unscathed.

I knew he’d be a sketchy component of the team from the start, having never traveled outside of the States and constantly referring to all the guys with guns. Sure, there are weapons at the gate, but (essentially) no one within the camp is armed, just a bunch of folks, some in civilian clothes, some in camouflage. I suppose it is a matter of exposure, exposure of which I seem to be gathering more and more of in recent years. If you’re not used to seeing them, they stand out. If you’re used to seeing them, the lack can be interesting, but only as a reference point as to the day’s security posture. And here, it’s not that intense, as evidenced by the fact that there’s Liberty at all, even if it’s been recently curtailed.

To most, deepest darkest Africa is still a total unknown. Obviously, the unknown is scary and should be avoided. But what do we know? If you glance at a world map, you’d find this place a mere seventeen miles from Yemen, which is right next to Saudia Arabia, the country (not famous enough as) home to the WTC bombers. That means the Middle East, which means continual car bombs and ululating madmen. Less than ten miles south is Somalia, haven for pirates, training center for terrorist groups, and home of few things really pleasant.

The key is that we’re located at the strait separating the Red Sea from the Gulf of Aden, on the major sea route from the Suez Canal to our oil in the Middle East. Even though we may not have ships at this Navy facility (or even our own port), we’re here, for good or ill, which means anyone who wants to control this strait can only do so through us. We won’t be leaving any time soon.

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And for the curious. Hip Kitty was awful. Unless you like that sort of awful thing. Their sort of thing was pretty standard bar band cover fare. Overamped and sloppy. The drums overpowered most of the band. The rockstar pose the guitarist preferred was phallic – body at the crotch, neck mostly vertical, taken from the worst of heavy metal videos. The bassist hid at the edge of the drum kit for the two songs I sat through. Then there’s Kitty – not a great voice, but enthusiastic, although not enthusiastic enough to persuade anyone to thrash, slam, or get much further from furtive head bobbing (and you’d think opening with “Breaking the Law” would get the crowd rocking). I left as they massacred some Soundgarden.