A few days ago I had this interesting dream. I dreamt that I was lying in bed, and this bubble bee had found its way into my living container. I’m always paranoid that one of those nasty camel spiders is going to find its way into my room and crawl on me. If you haven’t seen a camel spider there is a picture of one on my Facebook page that we caught while I was in Afghanistan. It’s the one that we had a funeral for after it died. She… He… It was our site mascot for a few days until its passing.
Anyway, in this dream I was lying in bed and heard this awful loud buzzing around me. I started swatting at it, in an ill fated attempt to kill it. I say ill fated because I woke myself up as I slammed my hand against the wall. In that phase between awake and asleep I could really hear a faint buzz but wasn’t sure if I was still dreaming or not. Then a sudden BOOM followed by “INCOMING INCOMING INCOMING” from the rocket attack alarm.
That same alarm has gone off 8 times in the past 10 days, but most of the rockets haven’t landed close enough to hear or feel. So the sound of one of them landing so close startled me. I thought to myself… “I hope that’s just sweat” regarding the moisture in my shorts. I got out of bed in time to hear another BOOM! The alarm continued, unlike before when it would stop and there would be a period of silence before the all clear. Then another BOOM, which rattled the poorly insulated walls of my trailer. These were followed by three more thuds off in the distance somewhere, yet close enough to hear. At this point I was seriously considering making a break for the bunkers.
I put on a shirt and stood for moment and listened to see if the others were leaving their trailers. I said something in one of my previous posts, while out in Afghanistan, about only getting panicked if others were, never mind survival of the fittest, I’m a lemming. Since I didn’t hear anyone else freaking out I got back into bed and hoped that that dream wasn’t going to be my last.
Then another BOOM thundered through the darkness, which wasn’t as close as the first wall rattler but close enough to create a little rumble. Still I didn’t hear anyone else making a run for it. So I thought, well if I leave now I’ll have to sit in the cold by myself until the all clear, so I’ll take my chances here. At some point I also said something about not wanting to die alone, I’ll add alone in cold now.
The alarm finally stopped and I waited, silently, listening for that unholy buzz of rockets. Nothing… Nothing… Nothing… Then the alarms woke back up, but this time sounding the all clear. I fell back asleep for that last few hours I had before having to head to work.
When I woke up the second time that night I did my regular nightly routine. I work nights, so you can consider it a daily routine if it makes you feel better. I headed for the showers to clean the fear off myself, you know because those jackals can smell fear. The winds were very high because of a fast moving storm front, so I double timed it for the showers. After getting all squeaky clean and brushing my teeth I double timed it back, so as not to get unclean from windblown dust, and got ready for work.
I normally have some time before we leave to sit and relax for a minute, so I busted out my iPhone, sat on my bed and started playing Plants vs. Zombies. Without warning a thunderous crack shook my entire trailer like an earthquake just hit. It was like Chicken Little showed up but forgot to tell me that the freaking sky was falling. My heart stopped… After I realized that I wasn’t dead I thought to myself “Well ‘f’ this, I’m getting out of here.”
I grabbed my stuff went outside to find that it was only lightening this time. The guys were already in the car waiting for me. They said that they were momentarily blinded by Zeus’s fury. I made that up, the fury part, not the blindness… They didn’t actually say Zeus’s fury but I’ll start using that to reference any lightning bolt that falls within 500 yards of my present location. One of them said they felt their heart stop, the other said he could feel all his hairs stand up.
We high tailed it to the site, all the while the sky looked like there was an intergalactic laser light show happening. I have never been so happy to A.) Still be in one piece and B.) Not been a victim of Zeus’s fury. Thank god it really was just sweat…
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Unmistakable Lack of Something
I’ve been at this site in Iraq for nearly a month now, give or take a week. Honestly I have no idea how long I’ve been out here since the lack of change make the days roll into each other. But one thing I discovered today is that I’m missing something here that made me happier in Afghanistan.
Life here is noticeably nicer than it was at my previous location. I have my own living container, which is roughly 16x8 foot trailer complete with air conditioning, power and a small refrigerator, courtesy of the last guy who lived here. I have a memory foam mattress pad given to me by a new friend who left a couple weeks after I arrived and a completely carpeted floor thanks to the Post Exchange and about $15. Indeed, the living conditions are nothing to look down upon.
The dining facility is second to none. The building is a brand new Costco sized monstrosity complete with smoothie bar and ice cream. I’m trying to get people to call it the “buffet” instead of the “chow hall” but my lack of persistence has resulted in failure. Nonetheless, the food there is nearly 10x better than that in Afghanistan and quality thus far is just shy of the stuff you can find in your grocery store frozen food aisle, not the like TV dinners I was having before. Yup, life out here isn’t bad at all.
So then, why am I saying there is an unmistakable lack of something? Well I said it so there must be something right? As they say the grass is always greener. For some reason when I woke up this particular day I felt a little somber. For some reason this memory foam pad atop this decent twin sized bed felt less comfortable than the cots I was in. The privacy gained isn’t near as nice as having a bunch of guys living in a tent.
I wondered how was it possible, given all these bells and whistles, that I was still somehow unhappy? (Unhappy is probably the wrong word, so think of something half way between happy and unhappy) Then it hit me, like a freight train it hit me. It was that unmistakable lack of camaraderie. The jovial attitude you get when you put a bunch of 20-somethings in an austere environment and tell them to work together. The fact is, yes we worked in Afghanistan, but at that time it felt like it was more play.
I had fun in Afghanistan. I enjoyed hanging out with everyone there and hopefully I was able to extend the same feelings to others around me. I found myself wishing I was waking up in a cot, covered in sand with a camel spider crawling through my stuff. I’d go as far to say that I missed to food, but I haven’t completely lost it yet.
But there is that missing puzzle piece that will probably never be replaced, because even if I had returned to that same place in Afghanistan everyone would already have left. If I walk away with one lesson from this entire experience it will be that no matter how many luxuries you have the people are what really matter. Either that or it’s the fact that my cigars are locked in one of our guy’s foot locker.
Life here is noticeably nicer than it was at my previous location. I have my own living container, which is roughly 16x8 foot trailer complete with air conditioning, power and a small refrigerator, courtesy of the last guy who lived here. I have a memory foam mattress pad given to me by a new friend who left a couple weeks after I arrived and a completely carpeted floor thanks to the Post Exchange and about $15. Indeed, the living conditions are nothing to look down upon.
The dining facility is second to none. The building is a brand new Costco sized monstrosity complete with smoothie bar and ice cream. I’m trying to get people to call it the “buffet” instead of the “chow hall” but my lack of persistence has resulted in failure. Nonetheless, the food there is nearly 10x better than that in Afghanistan and quality thus far is just shy of the stuff you can find in your grocery store frozen food aisle, not the like TV dinners I was having before. Yup, life out here isn’t bad at all.
So then, why am I saying there is an unmistakable lack of something? Well I said it so there must be something right? As they say the grass is always greener. For some reason when I woke up this particular day I felt a little somber. For some reason this memory foam pad atop this decent twin sized bed felt less comfortable than the cots I was in. The privacy gained isn’t near as nice as having a bunch of guys living in a tent.
I wondered how was it possible, given all these bells and whistles, that I was still somehow unhappy? (Unhappy is probably the wrong word, so think of something half way between happy and unhappy) Then it hit me, like a freight train it hit me. It was that unmistakable lack of camaraderie. The jovial attitude you get when you put a bunch of 20-somethings in an austere environment and tell them to work together. The fact is, yes we worked in Afghanistan, but at that time it felt like it was more play.
I had fun in Afghanistan. I enjoyed hanging out with everyone there and hopefully I was able to extend the same feelings to others around me. I found myself wishing I was waking up in a cot, covered in sand with a camel spider crawling through my stuff. I’d go as far to say that I missed to food, but I haven’t completely lost it yet.
But there is that missing puzzle piece that will probably never be replaced, because even if I had returned to that same place in Afghanistan everyone would already have left. If I walk away with one lesson from this entire experience it will be that no matter how many luxuries you have the people are what really matter. Either that or it’s the fact that my cigars are locked in one of our guy’s foot locker.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
FAQ
I always get these off the wall questions from various people and it leads me to believe that people don't realize what really is going on out here.
Your Questions Answered...
Q: What do you do on weekends?
A: I don’t have weekends, I work 7 days a week 12 hours a day. There isn’t a single person out here who has a weekend off. It’s the sacrifice a lot of these guys make so everyone can sit at home completely oblivious to what’s happening out here.
Q: Do you go in to town at all?
A: No, the last time the soldiers did a foot patrol in town one was killed by a sniper, this isn’t club med or a tourist spot, it’s a war zone.
Q: How’s the food?
A: It’s definitely not as bad as it was in Afghanistan with the Marine Corps. The downside is that most of the people on post could use a few hours on the treadmill.
Q: Is it dangerous?
A: Are you serious? We’re surrounded by less than friendly locals. The country borders some of the least US-friendly countries in the world who have more than enough capability to wipe our base off the face of the earth. I get tired of that question… There’s a reason why the soldiers have to carry around their rifles, and they have monthly tests of the indirect fire alarm system.
Q: Do you get attacked?
A: We get rocketed every once in a while. If you can hear the explosion and feel the impact it means you’re still alive.
Q: Are you scared?
A: Not really. The way I figure it, if I go so does everyone else here and I don’t like the idea of dying alone. Plus those guys have bad aim...
Q: Do you talk to any of the locals?
A: Only the ones who work on base.
Q: Did you learn the language?
A: No, again, you don’t leave base. This isn’t a tourist spot. People need to get that out of their heads.
I also get tired of hearing people complain about their jobs. Everyone has every right to complain but choose wisely who you complain to. I don't care that you're pulling 10 hour days and working weekends... I don't care that you're meeting ran an extra 30 minutes or that someone at work is pissing you off.
I have 12 hour days non-negotiable, no chance for a weekend, sick day or vacation. I live with the people I work with so I have to spend 24 hours a day with them eating, sleeping and working. If I don't get along with them, tough luck...
At least you have the option for weekends, no one is forcing you to work. At least you can go home and get away from the people that irritate you and you get to sleep in your own bed and eat where ever and what ever you want.
I'm very lucky that I get a long with everyone, I enjoy the food and I was built to work extended hours but that doesn't mean I want to hear everyone else complain to me about their jobs. I happen to like mine, despite the work location...
Your Questions Answered...
Q: What do you do on weekends?
A: I don’t have weekends, I work 7 days a week 12 hours a day. There isn’t a single person out here who has a weekend off. It’s the sacrifice a lot of these guys make so everyone can sit at home completely oblivious to what’s happening out here.
Q: Do you go in to town at all?
A: No, the last time the soldiers did a foot patrol in town one was killed by a sniper, this isn’t club med or a tourist spot, it’s a war zone.
Q: How’s the food?
A: It’s definitely not as bad as it was in Afghanistan with the Marine Corps. The downside is that most of the people on post could use a few hours on the treadmill.
Q: Is it dangerous?
A: Are you serious? We’re surrounded by less than friendly locals. The country borders some of the least US-friendly countries in the world who have more than enough capability to wipe our base off the face of the earth. I get tired of that question… There’s a reason why the soldiers have to carry around their rifles, and they have monthly tests of the indirect fire alarm system.
Q: Do you get attacked?
A: We get rocketed every once in a while. If you can hear the explosion and feel the impact it means you’re still alive.
Q: Are you scared?
A: Not really. The way I figure it, if I go so does everyone else here and I don’t like the idea of dying alone. Plus those guys have bad aim...
Q: Do you talk to any of the locals?
A: Only the ones who work on base.
Q: Did you learn the language?
A: No, again, you don’t leave base. This isn’t a tourist spot. People need to get that out of their heads.
I also get tired of hearing people complain about their jobs. Everyone has every right to complain but choose wisely who you complain to. I don't care that you're pulling 10 hour days and working weekends... I don't care that you're meeting ran an extra 30 minutes or that someone at work is pissing you off.
I have 12 hour days non-negotiable, no chance for a weekend, sick day or vacation. I live with the people I work with so I have to spend 24 hours a day with them eating, sleeping and working. If I don't get along with them, tough luck...
At least you have the option for weekends, no one is forcing you to work. At least you can go home and get away from the people that irritate you and you get to sleep in your own bed and eat where ever and what ever you want.
I'm very lucky that I get a long with everyone, I enjoy the food and I was built to work extended hours but that doesn't mean I want to hear everyone else complain to me about their jobs. I happen to like mine, despite the work location...
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