Posts
21:30 – Kuwait City. Crying baby. Crying baby. Crying baby. Crying baby the entire ride to Kuwait. Maybe an hour of sleep and Kangaroo Jack to keep my increasingly addled mind amused. Not too long, overall, and a smooth and eventual landing in the Middle East.
Holy Fuck, the Middle East.
There was a nice crowd pressing against the visa counter at immigration, where we eventually received our multiple entrance stickies placed on the backs of our CAC cards. Along one of the long walls of this hall was a line of women, apparently Indian nationals, come to work for the Kuwaitis. The Kuwaitis don’t seem to work. Like good capitalists, they own all the capital, and hire foreigners to do all the work.
Customs was a matter of a quick x-ray and a $2.00 tip to the porter who guided my bags through the device. We stood outside the airport Starbucks, chatting with a procurement specialist from the DoD, and waited for transportation by KBR to the Hilton, where we were assigned rooms, and found some chow. Sleep would be nice, if and when it comes.
Monday morning, blazing heat, humidity up and sweat on sheets. Country briefing by a Colonel and KBR flunky, then records review by their corpsmen, and issuance of my Army boots, Army belt, Army canteen, Army sleeping pad, Army pants, Army jacket, Army hat (all in desert camouflage), Army helmet, Army flak vest, and Army gas mask, all crammed into my new Army duffle bag. I think I get to keep the clothes, but the helmet, gas mask, and flak vest get returned when I redeploy stateside.
I went for a swim in a spare hour before lunch. The sea’s saltier than the Caribbean, about as calm, but was covered with specks of black ash, no doubt a by-product of the petrochemical industrial actions nearby. In fact, there are oil terminals visible to each side of the Hilton’s beach.
Our country clearance is late, and we can’t catch the plane to Baghdad without it, so we may stick around here for a few more days than originally anticipated. If so, I’ve arranged to go on a couple of wreck dives. Why not? I’m here. There’s not much to do.
Not entirely nothing. We’re meeting a Kuwait-based Company Wife for lunch tomorrow, then last minute and gold shopping in the city center. Watch a western or three tonight on TCM, maybe some fashion channel, and sleep tomorrow until I’m tired of sleeping.
Read More......
2003-10-13
2003-10-12
Sunday, October 12, 2003
11:10 - Frankfort. Couldn’t sleep on the plane. Watched too many of the lame movies. Found myself in Germany shagged at 06:00 local time, but 22:00 home time (i.e. past my bedtime anyway). So we sit here for another seven hours before boarding the flight to Kuwait.
Security is heightened today. In Minneapolis, I was selected for a more detailed screening. My checked bags got to be x-rayed, saving me the hassle of having them hand searched. Plus, I got to lock them afterwards and check them through to my final destination. At the pre-gate security, I got a more thorough bomb detection wiping and additional checks of my carry-ons.
At the ticket counter, the man ahead of me was checking his hunting rifle for a trip to Canada (Minneapolis IS an International Airport, you know). The hand searcher looked completely lost as he inspected the case, very hesitantly touching the gun and never checking to see if it was loaded. They’re just tools, you know – like really loud, long range hammers.
In Frankfort, we’re lost in the terminal and looking for something to entertain us. There’s little available seating to wile away the hours, and the seats at the gates are reserved for boarding passengers only. At one point, George just walked through a gate adjacent to one of these boarding areas en route to a more comfortable seat than we had in the Blazingly sunny “Beerlift” snack bar. Once discovered, he was ejected along with the fifty boarding passengers who had already been processed that far. A rather embarrassing announcement accompanied the ejection. Maybe they used the word “Dumkoff”, but my German isn’t that good and we were already making a quick exit from the immediate area.
Even though we haven’t left the terminal, we still had to go through security again to scan the carry on. Dean got to remove his shoes. George got to turn on his machine. Brian got the bomb detection vacuum treatment. We all got an overly “friendly” pat down (and up) with metal detection wand and hand.
And we wait some more, dragging through the late morning.
This airport is truly a German thing. Way industrial. Metal fixtures. Metal Tables. Metal chairs. No window shades. No comfortable place to sit.
Shit. I’m whining and complaining now. What’s Baghdad going to be like? Read More......
Security is heightened today. In Minneapolis, I was selected for a more detailed screening. My checked bags got to be x-rayed, saving me the hassle of having them hand searched. Plus, I got to lock them afterwards and check them through to my final destination. At the pre-gate security, I got a more thorough bomb detection wiping and additional checks of my carry-ons.
At the ticket counter, the man ahead of me was checking his hunting rifle for a trip to Canada (Minneapolis IS an International Airport, you know). The hand searcher looked completely lost as he inspected the case, very hesitantly touching the gun and never checking to see if it was loaded. They’re just tools, you know – like really loud, long range hammers.
In Frankfort, we’re lost in the terminal and looking for something to entertain us. There’s little available seating to wile away the hours, and the seats at the gates are reserved for boarding passengers only. At one point, George just walked through a gate adjacent to one of these boarding areas en route to a more comfortable seat than we had in the Blazingly sunny “Beerlift” snack bar. Once discovered, he was ejected along with the fifty boarding passengers who had already been processed that far. A rather embarrassing announcement accompanied the ejection. Maybe they used the word “Dumkoff”, but my German isn’t that good and we were already making a quick exit from the immediate area.
Even though we haven’t left the terminal, we still had to go through security again to scan the carry on. Dean got to remove his shoes. George got to turn on his machine. Brian got the bomb detection vacuum treatment. We all got an overly “friendly” pat down (and up) with metal detection wand and hand.
And we wait some more, dragging through the late morning.
This airport is truly a German thing. Way industrial. Metal fixtures. Metal Tables. Metal chairs. No window shades. No comfortable place to sit.
Shit. I’m whining and complaining now. What’s Baghdad going to be like? Read More......
2003-10-11
Saturday, October 11, 2003
00:25 - Airbourn. Somewhere over Stephenville, Nova Scotia or Newfoundland of some such iced burg in northeast Canada. A bare third into the flight over the pond to Frankfort, then, after a few hours and an early morning beer, to Kuwait for a couple of days of sun and fun.
Left the house early in Minneapolis, and the delay on Chicago was not real severe, just the damned time zones cruising by at 600 miles per hour or so. Trying to determine how best to cram two thousand words a week into this government issued laptop.
Said my regards at the office Thursday afternoon. Nothing teary. Nothing real. I’ve been on this assignment mentally for a couple of weeks anyway, probably no news to Pete, who hasn’t seen me much in that period. Ended up out of there by 1500 (look at me, the big military time-monkey!). (Get used to it). I’m sure glad there’s some Neil Young on this flight.
So, packed most of yesterday. Brief snafu at the bank trying to get some cash, but not insurmountable. Spoke to the folks Thursday, then John and Joel Friday during the Cubs unlikely win. Joel asked, “is anyone angry at my decision?” The wife, to be sure, and her ma,… and her sister, but nothing from my side of the fence.
I type like crap on a cramped plane.
Donna was a trooper at the airport. We got there early and had a coffee between check-in and loading. Had a nice talk. She should be prepared, I think, provided she keeps her wits about her. She is somewhat fearful of being in the house alone, and may take a self defense class, or hire a security service. I left pistols both in the bedroom upstairs and the media center downstairs. She even went to the range with me last week and tuned up with both. The slide on the SW99 is still quite stiff (not that I didn’t try to send a few more rounds through it before I left, but,…) but adrenaline should go far towards the effort. She also asked where more ammunition was kept (among other queries), which may mean she’ll practice a bit more.
I did, however, leave her with a sick cat, one that can’t keep down any food. Really hope that it’s just a bad bug dinner, some of those pesky Asian beetles, perhaps, but it could be the start of his fatal demise. I told him specifically to live until I get back.
Damned cat.
The flight to Chicago was quick and tolerable. Once there I met a few of the others; Dean, George, and Brian, from the Denver and Muscatine offices. We engaged in idle chit chat for a couple of hours prior to boarding the flight to Frankfort. A nice 777, with nine seats per row. Sat next to an increasingly drunken Ukrainian who, once he drank the galley out of Heinekin, started to put a nice dent in the Bud Lite. No taste, too filling, just an Eastern European in need of drink. Read More......
Left the house early in Minneapolis, and the delay on Chicago was not real severe, just the damned time zones cruising by at 600 miles per hour or so. Trying to determine how best to cram two thousand words a week into this government issued laptop.
Said my regards at the office Thursday afternoon. Nothing teary. Nothing real. I’ve been on this assignment mentally for a couple of weeks anyway, probably no news to Pete, who hasn’t seen me much in that period. Ended up out of there by 1500 (look at me, the big military time-monkey!). (Get used to it). I’m sure glad there’s some Neil Young on this flight.
So, packed most of yesterday. Brief snafu at the bank trying to get some cash, but not insurmountable. Spoke to the folks Thursday, then John and Joel Friday during the Cubs unlikely win. Joel asked, “is anyone angry at my decision?” The wife, to be sure, and her ma,… and her sister, but nothing from my side of the fence.
I type like crap on a cramped plane.
Donna was a trooper at the airport. We got there early and had a coffee between check-in and loading. Had a nice talk. She should be prepared, I think, provided she keeps her wits about her. She is somewhat fearful of being in the house alone, and may take a self defense class, or hire a security service. I left pistols both in the bedroom upstairs and the media center downstairs. She even went to the range with me last week and tuned up with both. The slide on the SW99 is still quite stiff (not that I didn’t try to send a few more rounds through it before I left, but,…) but adrenaline should go far towards the effort. She also asked where more ammunition was kept (among other queries), which may mean she’ll practice a bit more.
I did, however, leave her with a sick cat, one that can’t keep down any food. Really hope that it’s just a bad bug dinner, some of those pesky Asian beetles, perhaps, but it could be the start of his fatal demise. I told him specifically to live until I get back.
Damned cat.
The flight to Chicago was quick and tolerable. Once there I met a few of the others; Dean, George, and Brian, from the Denver and Muscatine offices. We engaged in idle chit chat for a couple of hours prior to boarding the flight to Frankfort. A nice 777, with nine seats per row. Sat next to an increasingly drunken Ukrainian who, once he drank the galley out of Heinekin, started to put a nice dent in the Bud Lite. No taste, too filling, just an Eastern European in need of drink. Read More......
2003-10-07
07 October 2003
Minneapolis. Maybe not so surprisingly, the wife questioned last evening if we had ever discussed my participation in this (ad)venture. I guess I had always thought she was kidding each time she said, “you’re not going”, as if she, too, realized that many international projects don’t get off the ground. Certainly, her statement could not have been an instruction to me, as we don’t instruct each other, preferring more voluntary exchanges.
Anyway, I guess it’s just starting to sink in that I’ll be way far away for quite a while. It’s my adventure though, and I feel that she may believe that she’s not a part of it, as she most certainly was on the Caribbean excursion.
I did promise to be back in six months, so I’d best not miss that deadline, putting me back in the States in time to figure out my taxes.
Found a foot bag and a small cribbage board at lunch today, prior to my appointment at the Hennepin County Public Health Center to get a “take test” on my small pox inoculation. Two employees had to look and look at the site and their informational pamphlet before deciding that the shot “took”. I just hope that they are correct, not wanting to be completely pox-ed.
I think I’m ready to leave now. Read More......
Anyway, I guess it’s just starting to sink in that I’ll be way far away for quite a while. It’s my adventure though, and I feel that she may believe that she’s not a part of it, as she most certainly was on the Caribbean excursion.
I did promise to be back in six months, so I’d best not miss that deadline, putting me back in the States in time to figure out my taxes.
Found a foot bag and a small cribbage board at lunch today, prior to my appointment at the Hennepin County Public Health Center to get a “take test” on my small pox inoculation. Two employees had to look and look at the site and their informational pamphlet before deciding that the shot “took”. I just hope that they are correct, not wanting to be completely pox-ed.
I think I’m ready to leave now. Read More......
2003-10-06
06 October 2003
Minneapolis. I spent last week in Virginia processing, mostly waiting, which can also be a process. Flew Monday afternoon to Dulles in Washington with Craig, then drove the rental Buick to Winchester, where the USACE/TAC (Trans-Atlantic Center) has a well-secured facility. We filled out forms and more forms, and then got a complete physical (including the requisite prostrate examination by Madame Physician). In total, there was one blood letting and nine inoculations (influenza, smallpox, antrax, IPV, MMR, Hepatitis A and B, Typhoid, and Tuberculosis). I speculated that the blood letting (and associated DNA testing) was for identification purposes in case we got blown to bits. The Army Captain Physician (Ma’am) said “yes, but we don’t like to talk about that”.
The biggest headache was the receipt of our CAC cards, or military identification. I think I need this for food service more than anything, although it may get me a reserve seat on the plane out of there. We heard stories that the production rate of these cards sometime approached one per day, but by the time we got ours done at the end of the day, this rate was down to about 15 minutes each. The cards have wee programmable chips embedded within them that seem to take some effort to program. They also gave us new Panasonic Toughbook laptops that, we are led to understand, are not compatible with the local network in Iraq.
Thursday we drove to Fort Belvoir, south of Alexandria, for further processing at the Army’s CRC (CONUS Replacement Center). A few more forms here, and an efficient fitting for the flack jacket, and we were done. We left Craig to fly out on Saturday, and we three (Brian, Dean, and George) flew home.
Once there, I found my house overran by a bunch of Chicagoans for the weekend. As such, my plans to relax and prepare were changed into me playing gracious host and honored guest for three days.
Monday, Bennett sends word that this Saturday is the day. My itinerary sends me through Chicago and Frankfort to Kuwait City, then off to Baghdad a few days later. Little time remains. Read More......
The biggest headache was the receipt of our CAC cards, or military identification. I think I need this for food service more than anything, although it may get me a reserve seat on the plane out of there. We heard stories that the production rate of these cards sometime approached one per day, but by the time we got ours done at the end of the day, this rate was down to about 15 minutes each. The cards have wee programmable chips embedded within them that seem to take some effort to program. They also gave us new Panasonic Toughbook laptops that, we are led to understand, are not compatible with the local network in Iraq.
Thursday we drove to Fort Belvoir, south of Alexandria, for further processing at the Army’s CRC (CONUS Replacement Center). A few more forms here, and an efficient fitting for the flack jacket, and we were done. We left Craig to fly out on Saturday, and we three (Brian, Dean, and George) flew home.
Once there, I found my house overran by a bunch of Chicagoans for the weekend. As such, my plans to relax and prepare were changed into me playing gracious host and honored guest for three days.
Monday, Bennett sends word that this Saturday is the day. My itinerary sends me through Chicago and Frankfort to Kuwait City, then off to Baghdad a few days later. Little time remains. Read More......
2003-09-26
26 September 2003
Minneapolis. Most of yesterday was a blur. There was a 10:00 conference call with the Iraq Team. Craig is in charge. Gary’s a planner and administrator. John plans. Don’s an architect. George and Dean are electricals. Brian is wet civil. And I do what I do. All eight of us. Rebuilding Iraq.
We are slated to fly to the CRC as guests of the USACE (United States Army Corps of Engineers) next Wednesday for shots and gear, but they want medical records of all sorts. To get a Kuwaiti visa, I need my passport and a few photos. So, I left around noon, having called the doctor and dentist and made the administrative request for my records (please expedite so they don’t take a week to process). Quick run to the barber to de-shaggify (the Army will cut my hair in the desert). Secure some fresh passport photos (“Make me look dignified”, I ask. “Take the pencils out of your pocket”, she replies.) and grab a bite, then off to the house to pick up some documents and yak with the City inspector about the new street, then to the vision center. Apparently, the government wants me to have a spare pair of eyeglasses for the trip and, since I need a prescription for them, and I haven’t seen an ophthalmologist for close to a decade, I get an exam as well, and do some shopping while I wait, and he dilates me, and everything’s a blur. Then, once I’ve returned to the office, Craig hands me the Kuwaiti visa form to sign, but I have no clue where my name goes, because the entire form is in fuzzy Arabic.
He shows me the correct location, I sign, and I head to the first of two Open Houses for a project that I would have like to have finished before departure, but that looks unlikely, since I may only be here for another 15 days or so.
There is little time to catch breath today. And Craig says that we need to be at the CRC on Tuesday morning through Thursday, giving us an extra day for fuck ups, which means we fly out on Monday evening. I’m gonna miss Queens of the Stone Age after all, just so I can sit at an Army base and get a dose of Hepatitis A, Hepatitis B, Influenza, Measles, Oral Polio, Tetanus-Diphtheria, Malaria, Smallpox and Anthrax.
Man, did I buy enough ibuprofen?
Meanwhile, Darlene writes “I imagine I am supposed to be supportive? Honestly, I am not so happy about the "adventure". I have very mixed emotions…. the whole spectrum. Happy to angry. In this respect you remind me of David. I know there is no talking you out of it. So what I will say is, I love you very much and will be looking forward to any correspondence we may have until you arrive home safely. Darlene.”
It’s not for everyone. Read More......
We are slated to fly to the CRC as guests of the USACE (United States Army Corps of Engineers) next Wednesday for shots and gear, but they want medical records of all sorts. To get a Kuwaiti visa, I need my passport and a few photos. So, I left around noon, having called the doctor and dentist and made the administrative request for my records (please expedite so they don’t take a week to process). Quick run to the barber to de-shaggify (the Army will cut my hair in the desert). Secure some fresh passport photos (“Make me look dignified”, I ask. “Take the pencils out of your pocket”, she replies.) and grab a bite, then off to the house to pick up some documents and yak with the City inspector about the new street, then to the vision center. Apparently, the government wants me to have a spare pair of eyeglasses for the trip and, since I need a prescription for them, and I haven’t seen an ophthalmologist for close to a decade, I get an exam as well, and do some shopping while I wait, and he dilates me, and everything’s a blur. Then, once I’ve returned to the office, Craig hands me the Kuwaiti visa form to sign, but I have no clue where my name goes, because the entire form is in fuzzy Arabic.
He shows me the correct location, I sign, and I head to the first of two Open Houses for a project that I would have like to have finished before departure, but that looks unlikely, since I may only be here for another 15 days or so.
There is little time to catch breath today. And Craig says that we need to be at the CRC on Tuesday morning through Thursday, giving us an extra day for fuck ups, which means we fly out on Monday evening. I’m gonna miss Queens of the Stone Age after all, just so I can sit at an Army base and get a dose of Hepatitis A, Hepatitis B, Influenza, Measles, Oral Polio, Tetanus-Diphtheria, Malaria, Smallpox and Anthrax.
Man, did I buy enough ibuprofen?
Meanwhile, Darlene writes “I imagine I am supposed to be supportive? Honestly, I am not so happy about the "adventure". I have very mixed emotions…. the whole spectrum. Happy to angry. In this respect you remind me of David. I know there is no talking you out of it. So what I will say is, I love you very much and will be looking forward to any correspondence we may have until you arrive home safely. Darlene.”
It’s not for everyone. Read More......
2003-09-24
24 September 2003
Minneapolis. Still no word on anything. I keep adding to the question list, but there’s no opportunity to get any answers. Perhaps once Craig returns from Washington tomorrow he’ll have a little more knowledge of the situation. I ordered seven months of prescription medication today. I’ll need a huge bottle of Ibuprofen as well.
Craig did call later. Says that I need to report to the CRC (CONUS (Continental United States) Replacement Centers) in Winchester next Wednesday at 08:00 for Kevlar vest and gas mask fittings. My response was, “fuck”. I hope that didn’t offend him (but he’ll need to be thicker skinned than that to hang with the soldiery). I hope I can get back in time for the Queens of the Stone Age show that night. In addition, Craig says that Foster ships out this Saturday, Craig with a few others the next Saturday, and myself with three or four others the Saturday after that, 11 October. We’ll fly to Kuwait, and then take a military transport into Baghdad.
And then there’s the wife. She told me, I think for the last time, that “you’re not going to Iraq”. Most of this is denial and hope based in the fact that some international work just doesn’t materialize. Mostly, she gets very quiet whenever the subject is raised. I imagine she thinks I’ll get blowed up or whacked or seriously injured somehow. I’m sure every soldier’s spouse feels the same way. The primary difference between they and me is that being in the military is their job, and for me it’s just an adventure, a mid-life crisis perhaps, an excuse to do something more interesting than sitting in this cube. Read More......
Craig did call later. Says that I need to report to the CRC (CONUS (Continental United States) Replacement Centers) in Winchester next Wednesday at 08:00 for Kevlar vest and gas mask fittings. My response was, “fuck”. I hope that didn’t offend him (but he’ll need to be thicker skinned than that to hang with the soldiery). I hope I can get back in time for the Queens of the Stone Age show that night. In addition, Craig says that Foster ships out this Saturday, Craig with a few others the next Saturday, and myself with three or four others the Saturday after that, 11 October. We’ll fly to Kuwait, and then take a military transport into Baghdad.
And then there’s the wife. She told me, I think for the last time, that “you’re not going to Iraq”. Most of this is denial and hope based in the fact that some international work just doesn’t materialize. Mostly, she gets very quiet whenever the subject is raised. I imagine she thinks I’ll get blowed up or whacked or seriously injured somehow. I’m sure every soldier’s spouse feels the same way. The primary difference between they and me is that being in the military is their job, and for me it’s just an adventure, a mid-life crisis perhaps, an excuse to do something more interesting than sitting in this cube. Read More......
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
