It was almost exactly a month of waiting that my team and I had to endure before we were able to find a flight home. During this time, little by little, we lost more and more of our freedom and ability to communicate. The first to go was the internet, then our phones, and then we signed customs forms that would redirect any mail back to the US. For a good couple of weeks we were completely incommunicado.
The trip itself was not unlike a typical overseas flight. By that, of course I mean it was looooooooong. Almost 24 hours in all. We arrived in North Carolina close to midnight. The weather felt heavenly as we disembarked onto the tarmac and began to sort through the 800+ duffle bags and foot lockers of gear. The dust and dirt that covered them that seemed so commonplace only 24 hours earlier now appeared dingy and out of place with the clean surroundings. The first thing all of us commented on was the wonderful feeling of humidity on our skin. I never imagined I would appreciate such a nuisance of living on the coast, but after a year in the desert, moisture was a godsend. The pine trees and grass smelled wonderful, and we couldn’t stop staring at all the buildings and lights. It was a wonderful experience for our dulled senses.
The past week and a half has been a blur of paperwork and meetings; power point presentations and counseling sessions that all fall under the system the Marine Corps calls “warrior transition.” This is all in response to the Vietnam Era deployments where you could literally be in a firefight one minute and be home less than 24 hours later, cut loose to handle the very complicated emotional and spiritual aftermath of that very unique stressor few people have experienced called ‘combat.’ Today we take our time before returning to the regular daily schedules and requirements of life in garrison. I have actually been quite impressed with how the Marine Corps has handled everything, and I have felt very well taken care of. It has been a very pleasant surprise.
My family and I are slowly learning how to live as one unit under the same roof again. My son has had no trouble readjusting to me. I cannot be in the same room with him without a request to pick him up or let him sit on my lap. My wife complains about the size of the bed suddenly cut in half by my presence. I have nothing to complain about, of course. My living arrangements have improved dramatically!
Other than those minor adjustments, returning home has been a seamless and enjoyable experience. I am blessed to be free of the complicated emotional baggage that some of my co-workers have returned with, and I am thankful for my physical health, as well as emotional.
What I learned during the nine months I lived and worked in Iraq will stay with me always. Now I look to the next chapter of my life and beyond. From where I stand I have just received the equivalent of a rich inheritance. I came from living as a nomad in a tent in the middle of a desert to suddenly having a beautiful house, two cars, a beautiful wife, adorable and healthy son, and all the fresh fruits and vegetables I can eat! I could not be more happy. ~
Well, I have made the transition back to civilization fairly well. I said goodbye to my home in the desert and drove off into the sunset. Well, to be accurate, I drove east, so I guess I was driving away from the sunset.
Another day, another sand storm
I didn’t know what to expect when I arrived at Al Asad. I figured I’d have some time to myself to put my stuff away, maybe grab a shower, maybe get a hot meal. None of this was to happen because my old friend, the Sand Storm, decided to follow me from the desert and park itself right over the air base for THREE WHOLE DAYS!
What you see with your naked eye
My hopes of looking around the base were pretty much destroyed because this sand storm was a real stinker and made visibility limited to only a few feet at times. The only consolation I found in the irony that I had returned to a land of paved roads and buildings only to be greeted by a sand storm was the fact that I could go inside and the sand couldn’t follow me! Living in a tent for seven months really makes you appreciate doors and windows and walls and ceilings so much more.
What is actually going on in the air
In the desert, all you can do in a sand storm is batten down the hatches as much as possible to keep the gross amount of sand from invading your tent. The air is still filled with a fine mist of dust, however, and small piles appear as if from no where through every crack and crevice that exists in the flimsy tent walls. Here, I merely had to walk indoors and I was oblivious to the weather outside. Such a small luxury to some, but one that I will never take for granted again.
In the week that I have been back here I have enjoyed the variety of foods there is to eat, and have even done a little shopping at the Iraqi shops here in town. The sheer amount of imported junk that they sell to military members here is astounding. Perhaps even more interesting, however, is what actually passes for entertainment out here. I’m really not sure what to make of this video…
???
I’m looking forward to training on solid, level ground again. I’ve already done a few 10+ days since I’ve been here, and it feels amazing. My times have been more than a minute faster, for obvious reasons. I’m not sure when I’m leaving here and flying home, but I think I am going to enjoy my stay here considering its vast improvement to the previous seven months’ living conditions. And so begins a new chapter of my life in Iraq. This one hopefully involves a lot less sand in the hair and eating food designed for nuclear fallout scenarios. ~
All right, well, my time here in Iraq, at least way out here in the desolate desert of despair (nice, huh?) is coming to an end. The trucks are here, things are being moved, tents are being broken down, plans are being made, etc. The writing is more or less on the wall. So, in remembrance, I thought I’d share a few pictures of the crazy, but sometimes beautiful, desert that I have been living in over these last eight months. Enjoy!
Nothing as far as the eye can see in all directions (and yes, that is the ground that I run on every day). For the most part there are no changes in topography out here, with one exception.
These plateaus are the only thing that breaks up the monotony of the desert. They are scattered here and there across the landscape, and provide interesting views when you climb up them. We made this one into a bunker complex for training.
When we first arrived out here, it was the middle of winter. The weather was very nice back then. There are almost never any clouds in the sky out here anymore, but in the winter there were plenty, like the below sunset I took in February:
This is actually my favorite spot on the camp. It is nothing more than a pile of rocks that we built on the North edge of the camp, but there is something about the solitude it offers that I find myself frequently hanging out there in the early morning and late evening. The Bedouin tribes out here use these piles of stones as navigational aids. We just built one cause we were bored and I thought it would look cool up on the hill.
The desert isn’t completely void of life. Surprisingly enough, one day in early spring I actually happened across this little flower. I was so surprised I could hardly believe my eyes. It was so colorful and stood in such stark contrast with the rest of its surroundings. It only lasted three days, and I haven’t seen one since, but it was pretty while it lasted.
My favorite time of day by far is dusk. I don’t know what it is about the end of the day, but I just love the calm as the sun just hides itself below the horizon when there’s still enough light to see everything. This is the time I like to mosey on over to the lawn chairs and have a nice cigar with the guys.
Of course, we’re not all into cigars. Scott here likes chewing tobacco. Hey, after a long day of moving around in 60 pounds of gear in 110 degree heat, I think you’ve earned the right to chew on whatever you darn well please.
When the sun goes down for good, depending on the phase of the moon, we can often continue to see just as well all night long. The starlight and moonlight out here is incredible. The above picture was actually taken at 2:30 am! That’s a full moon, not the sun!
But where one day must end, another begins… and so goes a day of life in the middle of the Syrian Desert. ~ESV
I dropped my 30th flight of helos in a combat zone today! What do I win?
Do you remember how difficult it used to be to go to bed on Christmas Eve; that anticipation, the excitement of dreaming about what magical gifts were underneath all the wrappings and bows in the next room over? Time always seemed to slow to a crawl and all thoughts were centered on one single thing: opening gifts.
Well, if you could imagine that same setting of anticipation and excitement, but throw in 110 degree heat, back-breaking work, and complete isolation from the civilized world, that would about sum up how we’ve felt out here. Oh, no, wait. Pretend also that Christmas was an undisclosed date. You didn’t know when exactly it was coming, but you could see the signs everywhere: your parents putting up a tree, arranging presents, throwing back some vintage egg nog. Now, that starts to paint the picture of what it’s like to be stranded in the middle of the desert in a foreign country and watch news articles scroll by on CNN that say thousands of troops are leaving Iraq. We hear nothing from our official channels. Everyone is mute. But we see the signs.
First they took the extra supplies of HESCO barriers away, then the wood, then the tools we usually need for building more targets and bunkers for training. All of it retrograded away from here. Then I receive word that such and such unit cancelled training because they are going home early. Another message comes to me that says so and so is no longer available for helicopter runs because their unit is also leaving early… yet, the few of us that live out here, isolated from everything, hear nothing.
Despite the lack of information, a little eavesdropping in the phone center (a tent with three phones side by side) tells me I’m not the only one thinking that we’re going home sometime soon. Just the other night I heard the ecstatic voice of a young man talking to his girlfriend.
“Yeah, baby. I’ll probably be home for your birthday! Or at least Thanksgiving. Maybe Christmas? New Year’s maybe? I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure I’m coming home early!”
Do you know what that kind of uncertainty and vagueness can do to a Marine? Horrible things, friends. Trust me. It’s not so bad for the single guys. Parents are eager to see them the same as everyone else, but they don’t have much to worry about logistically when it comes to going home. After all, a barracks room on base is not much different than a barracks room in Iraq. But those of us that are married and have children, and a house, and plans for the future… wow. That is the worst kind of half-news you can receive. I hesitate to even share that kind of news with my wife because I know that it’s going to create that strange uneasiness that it did with me. You want to get excited, but then you hold off because you don’t want to be let down too hard. You want to start making plans, but then you realize just how large a step it is to move such a huge amount of people from one country to another, and just how remote the possibility is that things will actually happen the way you have been told. You want to call all your friends and family and excite them with your news that you’ll be returning home sooner than expected, but then you don’t want to let them all down when plans change; and when it comes to the military, plans always change.
Still, I can’t help but listen to conversations here and there and watch people’s decisions with a keen eye. Earlier today I mentioned that we needed to repair the drainage area for one of our water bulls because it had recently become a gigantic mud puddle instead of the soakage pit it was designed to be. The commander merely shrugged his shoulders and said nonchalantly, “Don’t bother. We can manage.”
Yet nothing official is said. I can’t help but wonder why. I think the policy of keeping secrets for fear of laziness is the stupidest thing I’ve ever encountered in the Marine Corps. Do they honestly believe that if PFC Jones knew he was going home in 30 days he would just refuse to work for the next 29? Where’s the logic in that, especially considering that even the most non-observent people can obviously see that this war is over and we are about as useful as a cow in India right now. Still, they keep their secrets…
Perhaps the most significant impact this is having on me is the challenge it creates in planning for my future- particularly the goals I have been working toward for so long. I am scheduled to run a half-marathon on August 15th, and the Marine Corps Marathon (FWD) on October 25th. I’m very confident I’ll be here for August 15th, but October 25th? Dare I allow myself to hope?
I have found my various other goals interrupted by this mysterious change in plans also. I haven’t been able to write a word toward my novel in over a week. I haven’t been able to brainstorm or jot down any ideas for my podcast either. I just feel like I’m waiting for something to happen, and once it does I’ll be able to get back down to business. It is a terribly frustrating feeling because I know in my mind that I should be focussed on work as usual and let things happen as they will. I will drive myself bonkers if I allow myself to get caught up in the “when am I going home” hype. Like I said before, I’ll get home when I get home.
Still, events and plans keep changing before my very eyes. It’s as if everyone knows that we are not long for this place, but no one is willing to say when we’re leaving. It’s really ironic too that number two of the “11 principals of leadership” for the Marine Corps is “keep your Marines informed.” I guess maybe they forgot that one? ~ESV
What a day. I got up at 4:00 am this morning in order to walk out to a range and beat the heat. However, when we awoke we found the sky completely filled with sand. Range was cancelled. I went ahead and taught my portion of the course this morning, which took most of the morning. When I was finished my body desperately wanted a nap, but I really wanted to do my workout earlier rather than later. I really dislike working out in the evenings. My desire for sleep took over, however, and I napped for about an hour while the students took their tests.
I woke to the head instructor informing me that the weather had cleared and we were moving out to the range within the half hour. Great. Now we’re going to be walking out three miles in the hottest part of the day, and the forecast said 110 again today. I grabbed my gear and reluctantly headed out, still craving sleep. Eight hours in the sun later and I found myself zoning out as we walked back, the sun now setting behind us. I could help but argue with myself just a little bit about working out when I got back. I mean, can’t I just call walking six miles with 60 pounds of gear on my back a workout and call it a day?
I decided to compromise and do Ab Ripper X but skimp on the Shoulders, Chest & Triceps workout. This is partially because I was tired and didn’t want to compete for weights in our tiny gym (since everyone else seems to love to work out at this time of the day), and partially because my hands have been torn up from the dryness and lifting weights.
Ab Ripper X moves pretty quickly, and always leaves me feeling a small sense of accomplishment. Since it was almost 8:00 pm at that point, I figured it would be enough to push me over the edge of exhaustion and send me to bed.
I surprised myself, however. First I did the workout without sneakers on, which the last time I did this I couldn’t finish half the exercises because I relied on having that little extra counter balance. This time I didn’t have any problems at all, and in fact, I actually managed to attain my goal of doing all 50 Mason Twists! Yippee!
So, this long, drawn out day is over, and I can go to bed with the knowledge that I pushed myself and achieved yet another goal. It’s a nice feeling. ~ESV
Things are moving along nicely with P90X. I’ve got a pretty good routine down of waking up and working out as early as possible while the air is still cool. A few of the workouts I do without the video now, while some of the others I still prefer to work alongside the others. Today was a little more challenging than normal, for some reason. I had to really force myself out of bed this morning. Yesterday was a grinder of a day, and I really didn’t have the heart to start off with Shoulders, Chest, and Triceps this morning. I guess I must have given myself a pep talk in my early morning stupor because when I actually became aware I was up and outside in the gym by 0630, pumping iron by 0645.
I like this workout. It moves pretty quickly, and there are no repeats. The exercises are mostly interesting, and other than the Plyometric Pushups, I can hanlde with little difficulty. Ab Ripper X and I are still battling it out. I haven’t managed 50 Mason Twists yet, but I’m a lot stronger than I ever have been before in the ab area, which is encouraging. I’ll get there.
I finished up the workout and sat down to eat some breakfast in my tent, but I had a vague sense that I was forgetting something. My iPod was with me, I had my workout sheets… I couldn’t figure it out. Suddenly a knock at my door. “Hey, doc. Are you ready? We’re leaving.”
Oh, that’s right. I have a job to do!
I threw on my clothes and gear and walked out to the front gate to see the students and rest of my instructors looking like they had been waiting for a while. In truth I was only five minutes late, but they made sure to drum it up like it was much more than that. Somehow I agreed to hike the students out to the range, which is about 3 miles away. This is after I hiked them out yesterday, and worked out this morning- and keep in mind that I’m supposed to be resting on Mondays according to my marathon schedule. The weather was agreeable, which made for a much easier time. The wind was pretty strong though, which always makes life miserable when you are walking through sand with the consistency of baby powder.
We spent seven hours in the sun today training the students. When it was all said and done the head instructor comes to me and asks, “So, do you mind hiking them back?” I gave the strongest look of “you’ve got to be joking!” We usually make them hike out, but we drive them back. For one, they are already exhausted from the one-way trip that to make them hike back is usually asking for serious problems. For another, the difference between an 8:00 am hike and a 5:00pm hike is close to 20 degrees, which is downright dangerous. However, apparently the 7-ton truck we usually rely on to drive our students blew a coolant hose last night and was out of commission today. So, off we went back to the good ole’ Shadow Range.
Shoulders, Chest & Triceps: 1:10 minutes
Ab Ripper X: 22 minutes
6 miles in the sand in full gear: close to two hours
Being able to blog about how hard I worked out today… not even worth it. ~ESV
Another holiday has come and gone for me while on deployment, and like the others before it, it passed largely unnoticed. There was some talk about grabbing some pop-up flares from the armory and creating our own fireworks show, but after three days of dust storm conditions, no one really wanted to do much except hunker down in their tents and keep to themselves.
While the 4th of July in Iraq was not all that exciting, that is not to say that this past month leading up to the holiday has not been, shall we say, interesting. I thought I’d give you a ‘by the numbers’ look at life in the desert.
Number of days I’ve been in country: 157
Number of days since my last shower: 10
Longest I’ve gone without a shower: 33 days
Hours working per day: averages 17
Days off per week: 0
Number of MRE’s eaten: too many to count
Number of times I’ve nearly offed myself trying to force another one down my throat: many
Number of food choices: 5
-MRE
-Muffins
-Individual servings of breakfast cereals with ultra homogenized goat milk that doesn’t require refrigeration and says “shake well” on the container in Arabic
-Arabic potato chips
-Whatever the kind people back home send in care packages
Number of patients last week: 6
Number of serious patients last week: 0
Number of dislocated fingers due to football: 2
Number of stitches due to playing with knives: 7
Number of times I was asked “…hey, Doc. Could I get to go home early if I develop narcolepsy? Because I fall asleep all the time”: at least a dozen
Number of times I explained that narcolepsy is not you staying up talking to your girlfriend on Skype until 3 am and then trying to make it through the next day on energy drinks: at least a dozen
Number of blisters treated: 20
Number of stinky feet I had to touch: 10
Number of laxatives dispensed: 5
Number of Marines seen running to the latrines shortly thereafter: 5
Number of days in a row above 105 degrees: 6
Number of days in a row with “red air”: 4
Number of bottles of water drank per day: averages 10
Number of times the generator stopped running: averages 3 times a day
Number of the times the AC stopped running: (it’d be easier to count the number of times it actually worked)
Number of helicopters landed last month: 24
Number of times I pleaded over the radio “take me with you!”: 0
Number of times I wanted to: 24
Number of times I’ve had to muster groups of Marines hoping to be able to leave this place, only to have the flight cancelled because of the weather: 4
Number of disgruntled Marines ready to leave this place: Uh… all of us.
Number of Ramen Noodle packages the mice got into this week: 5
Number of mice we caught this week: 12
Number of times Eric caught a mouse and then considered letting it go because it looked cute: 3 (actually, they all look cute to me)
Number of days I’ve worn these cammies: 8
Number of cammies I have to change into: 0
Number of days I’ve gone without getting my laundry: 13
Number of phone calls I’ve made inquiring about my laundry: 13
Number of books finished since I arrived: 8
Number of blog posts I’ve made about the weather: 8
Number of people reading my blog: a pathetically low number ☹
Number of complete seasons of TV shows I’ve watched: 50
-Entourage: 5
-Band of Brothers: 1
-It’s always sunny in Philadelphia: 4
-Arrested Development: 3
-Seinfeld: 9
-Friends: 10
-Fraiser: 3
-Futurama: 5
-Family Guy: 6
-American Dad: 4
Number of miles I ran in the sand in June: 67.5
Number of blisters on my left foot: 0
Number of blisters on my right foot: 6 (what gives?)
Number of days left for P90X: 54
Number of times I’ve rolled my eyes at Tony Horton’s stupid comments: at least once per workout
Number of days until the half-marathon: 41
Number of days until the Marine Corps Marathon (FWD): 111
Number of days since I last saw my wife and son: 165
Number of days until I go on leave to the United States: 57 days, 23 hours, 10 minutes and 41 seconds
Number of days until I can say goodbye to this &#^@%#* country for good: 210
Happy 4th of July, everyone! ~ESV
I have had an interesting and busy week. I feel like I’ve learned a lot of valuable lessons, and so I thought I would share them with you in hopes that my time out here in the desert will yield wisdom to be passed on for many generations to come. Here’s a breakdown of what I now know: (there is no beginning and ending to the week when you work 7 days a week, so I’m starting this on Thursday!)
Thursday: When an interpreter tells you “I need to go to Baghdad to handle some business. I’ll be back in four days,” start looking for another terp because they are not coming back.
Friday: When you order food from the military, you can count on two things: 1. Your order will be lost so keep copies and send them frequently, 2. It doesn’t matter what you order because all you’ll get is case after case of Haji potato chips and Banana Nut muffins until your storage container has nothing in it except boxes of potato chips and Banana Nut muffins!
Saturday: Cartoons? No. College sports? No. Sleeping in? No. Hours upon hours of loading and unloading gear, ammo, chow, and water? Yes!
Sunday: “Hey, doc, we’ve got a flight of 53’s coming in we need you to land.”
“Sounds great. What’s their call sign?”
“We don’t know.”
“What frequency will they be on?”
“Good question.”
“Are they picking up, or dropping off?”
“Not sure.”
“What time will they be here?”
“Oh! I know that one! They should be here sometime between 2:00 am and 7:00 am.”
“Thanks…”
Monday: In order to avoid complete monotony, Marines will do almost anything to entertain themselves, to include a Red Hot eating contest, breath holding contest, and, of course, the “who’s got the smelliest feet” contest.
Tuesday: Weight lifting enthusiasts that insist on being the “real deal” and working out barefoot (which is apparently how Schwarzenegger did it) need to also insist that they look down before dropping their weights! Two broken bones later…
Wednesday: Apparently 108 Fahrenheit is considered “breezy and cool” according to our trusty military weather man. I’ll bet he’s sitting in a nice air conditioned office somewhere sipping ice cold lemonade in shorts and a t-shirt too!
Thursday: If you have an early morning movement of students to a range, and you decide to get up extra early to facilitate being able to exercise and still have time to get ready, a sandstorm will come and cancel the whole day’s events. Nuts.
So, here I sit, tent rattling like crazy under the high-powered winds of the Syrian Desert, caked in dust from running in a sand storm again, wondering just how long it will be until my stomach refuses to digest another MRE, and where the heck our terp went… It might not be wisdom in the Aristotlean sense, but hey, it’s street smarts. Either that or the ultra-homogenized goat milk that doesn’t require refrigeration and says “shake well” on the box has finally gotten to me.
I hesitate to write this post as it seems everything over the last several months has revolved around two things: the weather out here, and my workouts. I’m afraid that’s all I can really write about out here. For one, everything is classified and I don’t want to go to jail. For another, there isn’t really that much that happens out here that I’d consider blogworthy. The weather is a universal theme. We all relate to it, and we all experience it in its various forms. Very few of us have ever stood in a sand storm, however, and even fewer of us have ever tried to run three miles in a sand storm…
But I have.
Yesterday evening I got a call over the radio that some bad weather was heading our way. The weather report (i.e. The guy standing on post looking west) said that it was coming quickly. For the first time since being in the desert I heard thunder! I stood outside for a moment and recognized the dark, ominous sky as a thunder storm, but with the added dimension of a sand storm thrown in the mix. Whatever it was officially, it was moving toward us with great speed and looked pretty serious.
We secured things as much as we could, tying down any loose items to make sure they don’t end up in Syria by morning. When the storm hit I thought the tent would fly away. Every little crack and crevice in our tent was pouring in sand at an alarming rate. We spent the better part of 10 minutes trying to shore up every little spot that was rapidly filling our tent with a fine mist of baby-powder-like sand. The frame rocked violently, the wooden walls that we built creaked and cracked as if they would break apart. Still, I couldn’t help but be curious and look outside. As soon as I opened the door I watched a wooden piece of plywood that we had put in the gym labeled “Please return weights when finished” fly away violently into the sky. Not a soul moved outside. The noise was deafening.
This morning I got up and prepared to do my normal morning routine of P90X and marathon training. Today’s workout is day 17 and included Shoulders & Arms, Ab Ripper X and a quick 3-mile run. Unfortunately for me the gym was no longer in working order when I arrived. The netting that we had erected after the last storm had lifted the previous tent off of the ground and threw it 50 feet was in shambles draped all over the weight benches and racks. I noticed while I was working out that the wind was still pretty strong, and the visibility was definitely less than 1 mile. After I had finished setting everything back up and actually doing the workout, I donned my headphones and took off to run. “What the heck?” I said to myself. “I’m sure I’ll do fine.”
Well, as it turned out, visibility was less than a quarter mile, which defines it as condition red, or as we just call it “red air.” In red air nothing is supposed to be going on, and all non-essential activities halt. So you can imagine the looks that I got as I casually jogged past tent after tent with my over-sized ski-type goggles on, leaning at least 50 degrees into the wind to make any forward progress. But on I ran.
I found two things remarkable about this run today. First, just how much sand you can get in your nose by running in a sand storm. Literally, the volume of sand that I have removed from my nose since has been astounding. Two, just how annoying it is to try to run in a sand storm. It feels like someone is blowing a sandblaster at your face. Tiny pebbles pelt you on the cheeks and forehead. But since you’re sweating so much the sand just cakes up and coats any bare skin. It is not a nice feeling. It’s even worse when you go to wipe the sweat from your view and instead end up wiping sand across your eyeballs. The wind worked against me for most of the run, but occasionally carried me a bit. Once in a while a gust would come along and literally blow me sideways. It must have been an entertaining sight to watch from a distance.
When I returned I decided to take a picture and see what I looked like, imagining myself covered in sand. As you can see, it was worse than I had thought.
I still have 18 weeks before the Marine Corps Marathon (FWD). Running out here is definitely not what I would consider easy, and certainly not enjoyable. But, I’m determined to stick to my goals for this year, and if that means running — no matter what the weather — so be it. I think I might invest in a painter’s mask next time though. My cereal was extra crunchy this morning, and I don’t think that’s because Cheerios has a new recipe. ~
