DEC 9 / DEC 7

DAY 9 DEC 7
Yesterday went with no flight and no bus and everything stayed packed until this morning when we rolled up our shit and went to chow. After another menial breakfast, we checked back in at the BDE TOC and discovered that we would not know when we were leaving until the 0900 XO meeting.
After the 0900 XO meeting, I drew ammo (180 rounds per person) for my group and told them that we had to have our bags at BN by 1030 (but it was really 1100). I coordinated with the bus driver, SGT Shaffer, to have the bus available to transport us an our bags there because its quite a long walk and the bags are not light. Then we waited, until about 1000 and I started wondering where the hell SGT Shaffer and the bus was – but I wasn’t worried yet. I was worried at 1030 when there was still no sign of the bus. And I was pissed off when at 1045 there was still no bus and I put on my IBAS and Kevlar and began the first of two walks to BN with large packs on my back. During the first walk, my ankle gave out and I took a headfirst dive into the bag on was carrying on my front. SSG Castro thought this was the funniest damned thing ever – so at least it served some purpose. Eventually, we managed to haul of bags to the right place and because the busses weren’t there yet, we walked over the DFAC for some moderately appetizing lunch. We hurried back, hoping the busses would have arrived, but they had not and would not, they told us, until 1300.
We waited in the SYSCON area until 1300 and were told to wait until 1500. As we waited, I read the day’s edition of the Stars and Stripes and managed to complete the SUDUKO without making any mistakes! But, it was rated at “easy.” I guess I shouldn’t be too thrilled.
At 1500, I went to find out when we were leaving and was told by the S3 that we should be back at BN by 1830. With all that time to kill, we walked back down to the tent to wait. About a half hour later, a SPC from BN came in looking for me – by name, which is very uncommon – and when she found me, she told me that the busses were going to leave without us and that they had already done roll call. I quickly grabbed up my stuff, threw on my boots and me and one of the other Soldiers going with me walked quickly up to BN – my other Soldier was no where to be found. The last we knew he was headed to the PX. Others were sent to look for him.
Once at BN I talked to the S3 who had told me 1830 and at first he denied saying that, but then look crossed his face like a small light going on in his head and he didn’t deny it anymore – he didn’t admit it, but he didn’t deny it either.
After about 20 minutes of stalling and hemming and hawing as much as we could, we had to get on the bus and the bus pulled away without one of my Soldiers. It was really no big deal, except for the fact that he missed movement (even though it wasn’t his fault) and that his bags WERE on the truck, even if he wasn’t. The busses rolled down the main drag of Camp Beuhring and as we were passing the PX, we saw my missing Soldier, walking quickly back towards the BN area. The BN XO debated for a moment whether to stop for him or not – we would have to go back to get his remaining gear (IBAS and Kevlar) – and the BDE S4 decided not. We drove on through the camp and as we weaved through the exits, the first bus stopped. We all guessed what had happened. Another, smaller bus, came by a few minutes later and let my Soldier out so he could join us on our journey to Iraq.
We continued the bus trip (maybe an hour) to an airfield called Area 51 and received a brief about what was going to happen, and when. We were supposed to get onto different busses in 30 minutes to get on the plane. As we waited by some transient (meaning “passing through” as opposed to “homeless”) tents with cots, it started to get cold and even so, we were all tired enough to snooze a little sitting there. After an hour, we decided to move inside and snoozed on the cots there until 2200 when we finally boarded another set of busses and rolled out to the tarmac.
On the tarmac, a C17 cargo plane was waiting and we all loaded up into the tail end of it and grabbed some seats. There were seats along the wall of the plane and also a bunch of airline type rows in middle. I sat on the side and buckled in. I rested my head on my IBAS (as I was wearing it) and put in my earplugs to buffer the noise of the big engines.
- A Side Note – IBAS is body armor, Kevlar pads in a nylon vest, supplemented with ceramic plates to stop higher caliber rounds. Onto this vest, we attach numerous pockets to put stuff in – ammo, compass, GPS, camera, binos, knives, tools, etc – and so it is not only quite heavy, but very encumbersom. Getting on and off of things with tight spaces, such as busses or airplanes is quite difficult and once you do get into a seat, moving is almost impossible. The IBAS becomes like a turtle shell, you can move around INSIDE it somewhat, we much movement of the shell itself it difficult. One good thing about this is that you can relax your body inside the shell and rest your head on the upper lip and regain some semblance of relaxation and comfort. Not much, but some.
- Finish Side Note –
I settled into my shell and napped as the plane roared off into the night, headed North to Balad and LSA Anaconda. When I awoke, we were landing and by the time I was fully awake, we were taxiing around the tarmac. A C17 has no windows for the passengers or cargo, so I couldn’t tell where we were, and it was dark outside, so it probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway. My ears hurt like crazy from the pressure differences and I couldn’t fix it with the nose blowing technique, or the yawning method, or any other way that I could think of. Once the plane finally stopped (and it seemed like we taxied all over the place), they unloaded the actual cargo and then began letting us off. We walked to some more little busses and were driven somewhere else on the base and let off.
Once on the ground, we waited for our bags to arrive and when they did we had to unload them, find ours and put them in a separate pile for shipment to Warhorse ASAP. We were told that there were some flights heading out tonight that we might be able to catch if we hurried. We hurried. We loaded, stacked, sorted and piled as quickly as possible and then reloaded another truck with the Warhorse baggage and hopped on another bus to head to helicopter tarmac. Once we arrived, we were told that the flights had been cancelled and we would have to stay on Anaconda for the night.
Disappointed, we were bussed to a transient area to stay, downloaded our bags – again, separated our bags – again, and were assigned to 20 person rooms (but with actual bunk beds instead of cots. We dragged our bags into the rooms and that is where we are now.
When I went out to eat dinner – a granola bar I brought with me from home – I happened to look up and see the stars for the first time since being out of the US. Oddly enough, the stars look the same. I know its no surprise, but its nice to know that some things don’t change. I first identified Orion’s Belt by the three stars in alignment and then scanned the sky for the Big Dipper, which I also quickly found. From there it was but a short glance to see the North Star, the Compass Star, the one that that truly stays the same. And while I gazed at the North Star, thinking of home, thinking of my wife, who I’m sure is worried because I haven’t called (I can’t right now, its 0430 here and no phones available), but who also may look at that same star tonight and know that we are both looking at the same star. And while I was imagining all these fluffy, happy things, a shooting star shot from the tail of the Big Dipper and I made my wish. I know it’ll come true, because wishes made on shooting stars always do.