Travel 5/22/07

Travel 5/22/2007
.
.
Mission to head south. Only way to go is by helo and cargo plane.
Brits are running this one so we skip some unnecessary procedures.
Night flight, normal for most flights outside of the IZ now due to
choppers being hit. Walk to LZ from my hooch with my boss. Helmet,
body armor, rifle and assault pack on my persons. IBA is heavier due to
carrying basic load plus of ammo. Walk is long. Waiting area at LZ is
crowded. Missions going in and out crowd area near briefing trailer by
converted parking lot. Soldiers and civilians pass one another, barely
visible in the dim light. Traveling with a small group. Important
people in our numbers that don't wear the uniform. This is not their
first chopper ride, but their faces show apprehension. The Brits fly
Pumas. Smaller than our Blackhawks, but versatile. We wait on the side
of the tarmac in darkness. Briefing says that they are breaking us up
into 3 different birds. We split up accordingly and watch other helos
come in and pick up their passengers. A Russian made HIP, some small
Defenders and a sortie of Blackhawks. The helos come in low and with
lights out. Pilots fly with goggles that allow them to see what we
can't. Rotor wash pushes us and our bags around like tumbleweeds.
Dusty and hot. Like being hit by a giant hair dryer. Loud, but sound
muffled by yellow foamy earplugs. Pumas sound different than American
helos. They are heard before they are seen. First one down, then
number two. Bird number one is mine. I escort my half of team to
Puma's door. Gunner/crew chief is a young Brit, no more than 19 or 20.
Can only see his eyes from back glow of night vision goggles on his
helmet. Takes our bags and stows them in back. Helps civilians first,
then soldiers. Don't spend a lot of time on the ground. Security
conscious. Take off. Glow from the Embassy lights below fall away, but
not that far. Low flight path. Not a leisure flight. Combat flying
banks us left and right, up and down. Suddenly, Puma banking hard to
right. Staring at ground below from my seat. Flash! Pop! Flares
launch from either side of the open door. Someone in back yelps.
Gunner is calm. Normal procedures to avoid ground fire. More hard
turns. Blades dig into the air with resounding thuds. Blackness ahead
disrupted by blue runway lights on horizon. Within minutes, a smooth
landing denotes first leg of mission complete. Airport is busy. Air
punctuated by sounds of jet turbines and chopper blades. Even at this
hour, uniformed personnel with reflective belts scurry about. Moved to
a tent to wait. Moved to another tent, and then another. Time to move
to airplane. Hercules, but British version. Rotors have 6 blades
instead of 4. Can carry 64 soldiers. We have less. Passengers are
mostly British soldiers. A few civilians being taxied to their next
destination. Single file to the ramp. Cargo net seats. Cramped.
Neighbor has bad BO. Trip will be an hour or so. Helmet and armor push
me down into the netting. Can't feel my rear. Smooth take off. Trying
to find comfortable position to sleep. Surrender to a restless flight.
Land at Basrah. Brit controlled. Single file to awaiting busses.
Can't take helmet off. Soldier escort informs us that mortars are
landing all around. Be careful. Terminal is a tent. Bags are
recovered. Movement by Land Rover to living area. Fort is guarded.
Perimeter is in sight, which means that we are very close to Red Zone.
Tents are dark, surrounded by earthen barriers. Hescos. It's tomorrow
already. Watch reads 3:30am. Sleeping soldiers in my tent. Find an
empty cot and remove my gear. Tired and hot, but feel much better now
without my suit of armor weighing me down. Cot is a welcome feeling.
Much better than the bed at the hooch. Above the sound of snores, sleep
is calling me. Lay down, but not for long. Sirens alert of incoming.
Twice. Not a restful night. Busy day ahead. Need to find food.
.
Interesting fact of the day: Brits say "cheers" instead of thank you.
I thought that was just in the movies.