Fires

For a few minutes this morning I was sitting on the warm concrete outside the makeshift gym enjoying the mild temps and the gentle breeze.  I had just finished a run on the treadmill during my “yard time” and took my stretching out of the building where I could cool off sans Arab-MTV playing on the monitors.  I had plopped down on the ground to start stretching my hamstrings when I noticed some white stuff falling on my sweaty legs and arms.  Snow?  Nope.  It was 90 something degrees this morning and unless the Lions won the Superbowl and hell had actually frozen over, I didn’t think that snow in Iraq was possible this far into spring.  After I touched and smeared the gray/white flakes on my skin I realized it was ash from some distant perpetual fire.  I thought about how many days I’ve smelled burning garbage and it reminded me of the Springfield Tire Fire (burning since 1966) from “The Simpsons”.  Here in Baghdad, there is always a plume of dark smoke rising in the distance horizon.  Sometimes it’s the result of a car bomb or some kinetic action involving soldiers in armored vehicles and insurgents on foot, but most of the time its from the burning trash (which is the Iraqi approved way of getting rid of unwanted refuse).  Although this incinerator mentality of disposing of trash would have Al Gore throwing a hissy fit, it is norm here and it is one more thing that I will not miss about Iraq.  

 

Lately, when I’m not sucking in pollution or wiping my eyes of hazy smoke, I am busy training my replacement.  He is yet another IRR soldier, a Major this time 10 years my senior, and he has been out of the Army even longer than me.  In fact, the new batch of replacements draws heavily on the IRR, but some of this group has not donned the uniform in over a decade.  My reign of having the longest break in service was over!  I don’t think that most of the my group were prepared to do the mission that we trained 3 months for at Ft. Riley, but this new batch of unlucky souls had even less time to prepare (around a month) for what they will be doing for the next year.  I feel for them as I wouldn’t want anyone to have to go through this ordeal, but there is a selfish part of me that is just happy that there is a warm body here that will assume my job thus allowing me to go home.  Does that make me a bad person?  If it does, then I apologize, but I won't feel bad about packing my stuff and getting out of here most ricky-tick.