Entrenched

I got to go off the FOB yesterday, to meet with some soldiers to survey how they’re doing. A fairly uneventful trip. Not far from the Patrol Base we went to is an event center, or maybe a wedding … chapel? Anyway, apparently weddings are held there almost every night. I heard music and applause and noise; it sounded like a carnival. I couldn’t see anything because of the concrete barriers.

We returned to our FOB in the dark, under rainy skies and lightening. The convoy stopped on the paved road and kicked me out, and I carried by pack the 150 yards to my office building, walking along a gravel road. The gravel in places is deep, and difficult to walk on because your boots sink in when you step instead of pushing you off, like walking in loose sand, only worse.

I dropped off my materials, checked email, putzed around for a while, ate a few jelly beans since we didn’t get dinner, then locked up and headed for my CHU. Well, in my absence a backhoe had come along and excavated a three foot deep trench in front of my group of CHUs.

The trench is as wide as the backhoe shovel, and pretty much serpentines around the entire FOB. I’m talking miles and miles of trench. They have trenched around the chow hall, and several places across my running path, and everywhere else. I suppose it was only a matter of time before they trenched by my CHU. Kind of took me by surprise though to encounter this new ditch, in the dark. It’s not wide, but I didn’t want to risk jumping it in the dark, so I had to walk back and forth for awhile until I found where they had left a spot undug where I could cross.

The other day I was running past a couple of Air Force guys putting the new cable in the trench, and I stopped and asked them what the cable was for. Communications, they said. “Will it speed up the internet?” I asked. “”Oh no,” one of them replied, “nothing will do that.”

Egg update

Since the last post, 2 breakfasts, 4 eggs, 2 broken yolks. 50% of eggs, 100% of instances. My cook this morning was in training; had some guy standing behind him watching his work. The watcher would cry "Ooh" from time to time and reach up to spread out the omelet, or something. Didn't comment on the broken yolk. I suppose an intact yolk is not a Pakistanti priority. They seem kind of shameless about it, and completely unapologetic. I was glad the watcher was wearing a hair net; he was as hairy as a Chia pet.

Eggs

Lately some of my peer group has gotten serious about weight lifting. Some to pass time or work off stress, one because he wants to go home and surf and look good doing it, and some just to do for the doing of it. Along with bigger muscles also goes muscle definition, and that require less subcutaneous body fat, and that requires dieting.

Several of them are doing the Atkins diet right now. I sat at breakfast today and listened to them talk about the color of the strip they dip in their urine to ensure they are deeply into ketosis (?). Anyway, they’re in the first two week phase, lots of protein, no carbs. I’ve been watching them get a large helping of scrambled eggs, and top that off with 4 fried eggs. I saw a kid this morning with six hard boiled eggs, who was waiting for two more fired eggs.

I asked one of the guys about all the eggs, which they eat for the protein, and he said he doesn’t worry about the cholesterol. He said “I figure it’s all natural. They come out of a hen’s ass. It’s got to be good for you, right?”

The chow hall is a good place to do the Atkins diet, because it is all buffet and pretty much all you can eat, so they can tank up on meat and cheese.

I’m not doing the Atkins diet, nor am I lifting weights; I’m no slave to fashion. I do like to eat fried eggs for breakfast, but about half the time that is kind of annoying. We can order fried eggs or an omelet, both to order, and lots of guys do. We stand right in front of the cook, and look at the eggs through a (recently installed, thank God) clear sneeze guard.

The short, dark and hairy Pakistani cooks tend to get feeling rushed with us staring at them, so they try to give you fried eggs that are pretty runny, in order to keep up throughput. I time my eggs; 1 minute from the first flip over. Well, what usually happens is that after 15 seconds or so, the cook spatulas up the eggs and waves them at me. I shake my head, and they splat the eggs back on the grill. Then, irritated, they turn the eggs over every 15 seconds or so and look at me expectantly. I look at them, look at my watch, and look back at them. A little Pakistani standoff.

I’m not holding up the line, by the way. They can cook 6 omelets or 6 or 8 pairs of fried eggs at a time. Anyway, by the time they get done with my eggs, at least one yolk is usually broken. I know, a petty thing, but jeez, a couple of eggs over medium with intact yolks doesn’t seem like so much to ask. And, you know, first thing in the morning and all, little things like that can be annoying. After all, by then I have stumbled a quarter mile across a landscape of large, ankle turning rocks, had to show my ID, cleared my pistol, and am standing in line waiting for eggs, wearing a helmet.

KGB

I had an opportunity to visit the Kirkuk Government Building (KGB) the other evening, after we left the Patrol Base. The KGB is close enough to the PB that the soldiers from the PB walk to the KGB to pull guard duty. Because they walk, they don’t carry much, so we delivered a few cases of bottled water on our way back to the FOB.

We drove past the seesaw concrete barriers, and past the red and white striped barrier arm lifted by an Iraqi Policeman, into the compound around the KGB. A large bushy white dog barked us in, and circled around with his nose in the air and his ears flat while we unloaded. I wondered if it was going to attack, but it kept a respectful distance.

The guards weren’t there to meet us, so we went in the KGB and looked around for them. The KGB is a large, three-story building, with very wide halls. The floor is laid with dirty tile, and the walls are a flat earth tone tan paint. It was about 21:00 so almost no one was there. I heard Arabic being spoken behind one door, but only one. A few doors had signs announcing, I dunno, something, probably the occupant’s name or office, but most doors were blank wood. There were no signs or directories. If you didn’t know where to go, you’d just have to ask or walk around.

After a while the guards turned up and we handed off the water. The dog barked us off the compound, and we returned to the FOB. Overall, my impression of the KGB is that it is run down and poorly cleaned and maintained, like almost everything else in the country.

On the other hand, I did see one beautiful new 5 story building, crisp white with pink trim. The windows and doorways formed Arabic geometric patterns. I’d like to think it represents the future of Kirkuk. I see lots of stuff that used to be nice, and I wonder if the economic sanctions and the declining economy are why things are so run down.

Enjoying the weather

It is turning warm here in north Iraq; very warm. It was in the high 90s or low 100s yesterday.

I went for a run about 16:00, which is when I usually run. Being Saturday, I had planned to do my weekly long run, for about an hour. Just walking to chow and back resulted in me being a little out of breath and sticky with sweat, so I knew the run would be a warm one. I was sure to “camel up”, drink lots of water, in the hours before the run.,

I went with another guy with whom I run on Saturdays, and he ran out of steam after about 20 minutes, gasping for air like a landed trout. I peeled off and ran a longer route, but ended up running by him, about 30 minutes into the run. I wheezed up next to him, and we both walked the last few hundred yards back to our CHUs. I didn’t have the mental toughness to keep running past him, it was just too tempting to stop.

After I returned to my room, I sat for a while and caught my breath, but I felt a bit woozy. The heat definitely added a challenge to the run. It is mostly a matter of adjusting to the heat. I’ve run in the heat plenty of times, and the first few hot days of the season are good for acclimatization. Even so, I’ll probably start running in the morning.

It has been green here, but in the last week brown has been taking over. Martha Stewart of the FOB’s watermelons died when he was gone for a few days. The days are hazy, and the air feels thicker, pressing on you, more difficult to move through. Lots of colorful birds are migrating through, and insects are out in force. I’m told this won’t last. Once the heat really sets in, nothing moves.

Exiting the chow hall after lunch I asked a soldier "How're you doing?" "Pretty good", he replied, "just enjoying the weather." We both laughed, and plowed off through the thick gravel.

Street action

I went to a Patrol Base (PB) yesterday to talk to the soldiers and give them a quality of life survey. A PB is like a real small FOB, and is just a place for the soldiers to live, eat, and work out of. This one had TV, phones, internet, a weight room, a fountain in the front yard, and orange trees. I like to check in with them to see how they’re doing.

On the way to the PB, the convoy leader got confused and took us to the wrong PB, so we had to turn around and drive back across town. It wasn’t far so we weren’t too late, but we did get to go through the market in Kirkuk. Lots of tiny shops specializing in goods. I saw one shop that just sold plastic tricycles.

Interesting driving through Kirkuk. A few people waved, but certainly not a majority. On the other hand, I didn’t feel threatened. Saw some western clothing, lots of old fat women in full length black cloaks, and some young women, some with head scarves, some not.

We’re not supposed to look at the women, lest we offend their men, and most of the time that is not a difficult requirement to comply with. Last night, we pulled up next to a taxi, and I looked down through the two inch thick Hummv window into the taxi’s back seat, and saw a very pretty, and heavily made up, young Iraqi woman looking at me.

I’ve noticed that the women here really like to put a lot of makeup on their eyes. I suppose that in the strict areas where only the woman’s eyes are visible past the Burka, they like to make the eyes as captivating as possible.

At the PB, I climbed out on the flat roof of one of the three story buildings we are occupying (a former Bath Party building, I’m told, but who really knows). In the front yard of a house across the street, lights and music brightened a wedding party that was in full swing at sun down. We couldn’t see much, because of the trees. We could hear the music and the women making their traditional sound, kind of like “aye yi yi yi yi yi.” (Which is better than the traditional sound most of the women in my life make: “Where the hell you been?”)

I was looking down at the yard, and a corpulent man with a droopy mustaches wearing baggy brown pants stepped into the street and looked up at us. I waved at him. He smiled, bowed slightly, and swung both of his arms to his left, pointing flat-handed into the yard, inviting us to the wedding. I have no doubt it was a sincere invitation. Wish I could have gone.

Laundry

Things are looking up on the laundry front. We were down to using only the KBR main laundry, which isn't bad, but ain't that great, either. The soap is way fragrant, and kind feels sticky on the skin.

Recently the laundry facility reopened, so we can now go there again and do our own laundry. Even better, a Quartermaster Laundry has opened up here on the FOB. This is a laundry run by soldiers, using soldiers, filtered water, and normal soap. Also, same day turn around.

Boots

I heard today that one of our soldiers filed a complaint with her congressman because she couldn't get boots to fit to her satisfaction. Odd, because we were all issued 4 pairs of tan boots before we came over here, and she took her 4 pair. At the issue point, we were allowed to try on the boots, and walk around, and make sure they fit.

In addition to the 4 pair of tan boots, we were also issued a pair of black cold weather boots. Also odd, since we can't wear black boots with our desert camo uniform. I packed that pair away and sent them home, along with 2 of the 4 tan pair, so I have 3 pair of tan boots here. I had bought a tan pair before mobilization, not knowing we would be issued 4 more pair. I had heard that soles of the Army issue boots would melt on the hot pavement over here, so I bought a non-melting pair.

At home, I have the 2 tan pair, the 1 black cold weather pair, and 2 more new black pair I bought right before we left. Since I bought them, the Army has announced a new uniform, which has only tan boots. So, essentially, I have 3 useless new pair of black boots, and bought 1 pair of tan boots that I don't need. Jeez. If you stayed with me, you know I now have 10 pair of boots. 5 tan, 3 new black, and 2 old black.

I saw a soldier with tiny US Flags on the lowest lace of his boots. I see quite a few soldiers with dog tags tucked into the boot laces. I guess the idea is, if your leg gets blown off, they'll be able to identify it. And for that reason, some soldiers say that putting the dog tag in your laces is bad luck.

We all had to write our battle roster number (a kind of ID number) and our blood type on the outside of our boots. I guess so if your leg gets blown off.... Also, I guess so medics don't have to guess at your blood type, should the situation become dire.

Police call

I finally returned from the lake, and have now been able to get caught up enough to start posting again.

The lake visit was enjoyable, though it went on for too long. After a while, the soldiers started to get antsy. I took them on a platoon run one day. Since we were on a hill, we ended up running up and down the hill. One group just walked a lap, another ran one lap, and the third group ran 3 laps. Not only was it on a hill, but the elevation there is around 3,000 feet, so some of the soldiers were really sucking wind.

I also had them do a police call – pick up trash – of an area in front of the hotel. An arm of land jutted out into the lake and curved in front of the hotel. The locals like to go to the area to hang out and party. It was very trashy, so I figured it’d be a good will gesture to go clean it up. The soldiers were not too happy to hear about that plan.

We formed up at 1000. The Sergeant Major assembled everyone, and told them “Everyone that doesn’t want to volunteer for the colonel’s detail, move to the right. Everyone else, move to the left.” All the soldiers moved to the left. We split into two groups, and walked to the cleanup area.

We cleaned up 30 or 40 bags of trash. There were a number of Kurds there when we moved into the area, with more arriving as we worked. Some of them pitched in to help us. Lots of them offered to share their meals they were cooking, and many wanted to have their pictures taken with the soldiers. (We were in uniform; another source of grumbling). I saw a couple of soldiers dancing the Kurdish line dance with a family. One fellow translated for his friend: “He say, he love America, especially
American soldier.”

The soldiers really like mingling with the locals because they had not been allowed off the compound and seldom get to meet locals. A couple soldiers wanted to go back again the next day to do another police call, and almost everyone ended up actually enjoying it.

Roach Motel

I and a number of other soldiers were sent on an R&R pass to a lakeside hotel in N. Iraq. I can't give a lot of details about the location right now. I am not on pass; they take someone of my rank to administer punishment if anyone gets in trouble. So far, so good.

Although I am not on "pass", I'm still not doing much. We were suposed to be here for 3 days, but our transportation fell through and we're still here 7 days later. It's like the Roach Motel; soldiers check in, but they don't check out.

We can go on a boat trip around the lake, on a bus trip up a nearby hill to look at the mountains, and on a hike into the mountains. Everyone did that in the 1st 3 days. Now most everyone just wants to return. We've watched the movies we want to watch, and are now getting into the fringe movie area. I watched "Love Actually" and "Evolution", so you know I'm getting hard up.

Laundry is becomming an issue. The food is good, but there are only two meals, i.e., only two offerings. We have breakfast, and the other meal; lunch/dinner. Nice break, but work is stacking up and it's time to return. Some of the younger soldiers are bored the second they stop some activity, so they're going stir crazy.

I've read 3 or 4 books (they days just run together), and am now reading abook that doesn't really interest me, just to pass time. We are not allowed off the compound, and there is no town to go into, so we're limited in sightseeing.

Who knows when we'll go back? Not us.

We're not in California anymore, Toto

I guess smokers must like this resort. The rule about smoking is, you can't smoke in the dining room. That's it. That's the rule. You can smoke everywhere else. Of course in the bar, in your room, in the lobby (the clerks behind the desk smoke), in the hall, I suppose in the elevator (it doesn't work), anywhere.

All the tables have two upside down water glasses and a thick glass ashtray. Very classy.