Back in the IZ

I came in last night on the wings of another Chinook flight that has added to my ever growing displeasure of traveling here. Normally, I enjoy taking trips. I like the adventure involved, the change of scenery and the anticipation of visiting someplace new. Sitting in a very hot helicopter, crammed amongst the collection of baggage, pallets and soldiers, as you take a 3 hour late night tour of the countryside for a ride that should only take 30 minutes is not so much an adventure as it is an ordeal. You can’t read a book or enjoy the scenery and it’s too noisy to hold a conversation with anyone near you. The only reprieve you get from the bar under the cargo net seating from numbing your left butt cheek is during refueling stops (of which we had 3 last night) where they shuttle everyone off at a remote pad and top the birds off for the next leg. As soon as they are all fueled up, it’s everyone back onto the birds as fast as you can so you can wait on the tarmac for clearance. For a minute you feel happy to be out of the hot rotor wash, but then you remember that your seat inside is destined to rob your end of feeling, so you shift to sacrifice the other butt cheek for the next leg of the flight.

We flew in two days ago to Spiecher on a last minute log flight and stayed with the same Marines that started this whole trip, although due to some mission requirements we didn’t see much of them. There was work being done to the power grid in the area so the M*A*S*H tent we occupied last time was absent of power and subsequently lacking in A/C. It made sleeping a little rough, but once the heat dissipated from the concrete barriers and Hescos, the temps dropped to a comfortable 87 degrees.

Now we are back within the confines of the IZ and it’s good to sleep in a familiar environment. I had to bust into my room at three in the morning disturbing Ryan, my trailer mate, from his slumber and I took a long hot shower which probably woke up the neighbors as well. Our walls are just two or three millimeters greater than newsprint. Normally I would try to be considerate of everyone’s sleep time, but I didn’t care as I had to wash the funk of the last 3 days of travel off before I laid down in my bed.

Nine o’clock was the latest I could sleep in before I got up and rolled into work today. It was not something I was looking forward to, but it had to be done because there is much to do. The computer on my desk tells me that I have 248 email messages in the last 10 days that I need to swim through and my boss back here wants a trip report to send to higher before the day’s end, which is very ambitious given my current state of consciousness. While I don’t plan on winning the war today, I do want to take a stab at the pile of work on my desk so I can leave early. I’ve got some laundry to do and I’m thinking that I will take advantage of my comfy mattress cover and semi-reliable A/C for an early rack session.

*Note: This blog and the ones previous to this were written over a week ago during my trip up to the border. I didn’t post them all at once because it would be a lot to read, so I just posted them one at a time to fill in the days.

Also, for those of you who are wondering, Brendan has not deserted the Army in order to coach the Iraqi junior Olympic soccer team nor has he taken up the lucrative career of professional pirated DVD salesman. He is fine, but busy. When he is not battling to save Babel, he is battling Rhino for space in his tiny room.

I'm pretty sure the hat is not authorized with that uniform