November 13-19, 2006
Ah yes, arrival at the Al Udeid airport. This airport was nothing special, but compared to Ali Alsalem in Kuwait, Al Udeid looks like Chicago’s O’hare. I dropped my bags outside on a pallet for the Air Force dudes to palletize then went inside to get my boarding ticket (just like in a real airport). Next I was sent to immigration where a Qatari sporting a military uniform (Qatari uniform) looked over a computer screen, reviewed my passport, and nullified my visa. All I had to do was sit around for a couple of hours and watch NFL football on the big Sony that was being piped in live via Armed Forces Network (AFN) in the airport until it was time to board (remember, I’m 12.5 hours ahead).
Sometime around 0100, 40 of us were herded out of the waiting area and onto the tarmac. We walked eleven miles, or so it seemed because I was carrying my body armor, helmet, two backpacks and my boarding pass, to an Air Force C-17 that read McChord AFB on the tail. God, I love those planes, especially the ones from McChord. I had hoped that Bill Q, Kristine’s first cousin who is a C-17 pilot, was still flying C-17s out of McChord and would be one of the folks on this plane, but he had recently transferred to Travis AFB and no longer flew these routes.
I climbed up into the plane with the 40 others (mostly soldiers) and fell into one of the seats placed in the cargo area that was just like civilian airplanes. I threw my crap into the seat next to me and reclined the seat as far back as it would go. There was no flight steward to bark out orders about “tray tables and seats in their full and upright positions”, just a friendly Air Force Sergeant reminding us to put our seatbelts on when the seatbelt sign is illuminated. Our baggage was behind the seating area strapped down to the floor on pallets. In no time we were lifting off and flying to Afghanistan.
Although I am not aware of the air route we took from Qatar to Afghanistan, I’m pretty sure we flew right over Iran. I say this because it only took us three hours to get to Afghanistan and I cannot imagine it only taking that limited amount of time to fly around Iranian air space to someplace like Turkey then right to Afghanistan. I’m also sure Iran has never given us permission to fly over their country.
OK, so we landed at Bagram AFB at 0430 on the 14th of November. Bagram, which is about 30km North of Kabul, is home to 17,000 fully armed and equipped coalition forces. I’ll tell you more about Bagram later. I walked through the immigration area, this time handled by an Air Force Sergeant, and outside to where the baggage was being unloaded. Once again, I was fortunate enough to have a U.S. Army Special Forces Staff Sergeant there to pick me up and drive me into my new home. The drive took less than five minutes.
I was dropped off at the Distinguished Visitor’s (DV) quarters and told to pick any room I wanted. I threw my gear and luggage into a room and then followed the Sergeant to the Joint Operations Center (JOC) to check in and make contact. I arrived at the JOC around 0530, which was far too early in the morning for the day shift to be on duty and therefore could not link up with my POC until he came on shift. The Sergeant suggested I come back between 0800 and 0900 and in the meantime I could go over to the Dining Facility (DFAC) and grab some chow (Class I).
Well with that kind of time at my disposal, I opted to call my buddy Captain Brian N who was stationed here on Bagram and who also knew that I would be arriving. I called Brian and we agreed to meet at the main gate of Camp Vance. I’ll tell you more about Camp Vance later, too. Anyway, Brian met me and we walked over to his DFAC in the vicinity of Task Force (TF) Dagger.
While eating away, we watched Monday Night Football courtesy of AFN live on a huge LG projection TV. Man, have the soldiers gotten soft: decent food, all-you-can-eat, in a decent building with MNF on a big screen half a world away. How could you ask for anything else? In any case we finished breakfast and Brian walked me around the area pointing out specific items of interest. Eventually I had to leave Brian and head back to the JOC before 0900.
The weather and view are simply gorgeous to a humble Washingtonian like me. It was clear and cool with snow-dusted mountain ranges surrounding the high valley of some 4800 feet in elevation known as Bagram. This is nothing like Iraq, or Qatar, or Kuwait, or Saudi Arabia, or Korea for that matter. This is probably the best view with the best weather, next to Germany, that I have ever been sent to.
Although Bagram is like a city, there are all these separate compounds within it that is surrounded by fencing, walls, and concertina wire. I live and work in Camp Vance (the Special Operations camp) and have to go in and out of an armed gate to leave and say, visit Brian in his compound. Now that I have my Combined Joint Special Operations Task Force Afghanistan (CJSOTF-A) badge, I can come and go as I please. Getting off-base (off Bagram) creates some concerns, but even with guys going back and forth to Kabul the risk is negligible. Brian has been in Kabul several times without incident. I would like to see Kabul, but the time has to be right and I won’t go without a posse.
To make a long story short, I finally met up with the right guys inside of the JOC. As I was informed, I am the Indigenous Operating Vehicle (IOV) guy working in the SPiG (don’t know what it stands for yet) for CJSOTF-A on loan from SOCOM. Got it? Super, now you know what I do for a living here.
I was concerned about my ton-and-a-quarter crate of mostly tools and some personal items that I had lovingly packed back in the good ole U.S. of A. It was due to arrive today at Bagram via FedEx. I found my way to the FedEx office here in an IOV and went in to try and get the status of my crate. If you recall from my previous memos of two years ago from Iraq, I used the acronym TCN for Third Country Nationals who produce a ton of the labor. Here in Afghanistan, the term TCN means the same, however, these people are Russians, Kurgistans, Chinese, and other Asians. In any case, the TCN in the FedEx office happened to be Afghani and only spoke Pashtun. I guess that makes him a local. He only knew one word of English, which happened to be “tomorrow”; I on the other hand happened to know only one word in Pashtun, which was appropriately “TODAY”! I then wrote down my tracking number on a piece of paper and said very loudly in Hebrew “I’ll be back later”. I knew that would get him.
Later happened to be the next morning. Fortunately for me, the manager of this FedEx location happened to be there and although he looked indigenous, spoke perfect South Carolinian. I inquired about my crate and he told me they had just delivered it to Camp Vance. I raced back to Camp Vance to find three soldiers looking in my crate. It hadn’t been on the ground ten minutes and they had already removed the 40 screws on top and opened the lid. I was able to take control of the situation by throwing rocks at anyone closer to me than five feet and threatening the pinky finger of any hand that came close. Immediately the motor sergeant, Master Sergeant Jones, showed up and provided a fork lift and operator to move my crate to its secure storage location. Whew, crisis averted and contents fully accounted for.
Oh, they gave me a mailing address today so those of you that feel the need to drop me a piece of mail most certainly can. I warn you in advance that the mail moves slowly and since we are in the “holiday season”, it moves even slower. The Post Office Specialist informed me to expect mail to take 2-3 weeks for arrival. OK, here is my address:
CW
CJSOTF-A
Unit 3-D
APO AE 09354
If you are wondering, I really do not have a want list other than the one I provided to Kristine. There is enough food and snacks here to, well, feed an Army. Yeah, I know, Ha, Ha! I did ask Kris to make some of the foodstuffs that I crave, run them through that food sealer/vacuum thingy, and send them this way. We’ll see how that goes. There is one thing that I do not have that I would truly love, but it must be disguised better than Gary in ‘Team America’ and that is beer. I’m talking about good beer that can be drank at 60F and still be great. Hiding it in the refrigerator is too obvious, and besides someone else would drink it and I would be contributing to someone’s violation of General Order #1.
I’ve got to tell you about the shower building here by my quarters. It’s a fully (recently) renovated Afghani building with eight complete separate showers. Each shower stall has a complete door that you can close, is not glass or plastic, and provides privacy. There are wooden benches outside of each shower door for your clothing and a towel hook to hang your towel on. Pretty nifty. There is one small drawback however. Whoever designed the ventilation system in the shower building didn’t understand condensation. Imagine eight showers going simultaneously with one little fan on the side wall to vent out all the hot moist air. Now imagine the collection of water vapor into water on the cold concrete ceiling. The net result: it rains in the shower building. And obviously the water falling from the ceiling is about 50F. I have learned to cover my clothes with something to prevent them from becoming really wet while I am showering.
Everything here runs off Zulu time. What’s Zulu (Z) time you ask? Well, it is zero hour; that time synonymous with Greenwich Mean Time (GMT) (GMT and Z are the same time). By way of example, the fabulous West Coast is on Pacific Standard Time (PST) which is minus eight hours from GMT or Z. Here in Afghanistan, I am plus four-and-a-half hours from Z making me 12.5 hours ahead of PST. Therefore, when the Commander told me he wanted me at his meeting at 6Z, he meant I was to be there at 1030 hours local Afghani time or 2200 hours PST the evening before. Although I’m pretty good at math, I’m going to put three clocks on my wall: Kristine time, Zulu time, and Local time to prevent any confusion in the future. See what happens when you don’t know what is meant by 6Z and miss the meeting? I thought it was a building location, not a time.
I got kicked out of the DV today. Some General and his entourage are visiting and took priority over me. They put me into a room that is very similar to the DV, but without the telephone and internet connection right outside my room door. Now I have to scrounge internet and phone time with the rest of the horde here. So much for fancy living. Having your own phone and internet access is the thing of Kings over here.
I have been running and lifting with Brian N almost every day. Fortunately for me, I’m a pretty decent runner and although I am not adjusted to the elevation, can hold my own with Brian. Now the lifting thing is a whole different story. I haven’t touched a weight or performed one push-up since I broke my left arm two years ago. Brian has been lifting daily for six months. Needless to say, he has punished me in the last few days. My triceps and deltoids hurt so much I can barely get dressed. I have learned to prop my right arm on a table with my razor in my hand and move my face around the razor. I know you’re giggling Charles, but I will come out of this experience huge. I think I have already gained a half inch on the biceps and pectorals. When I return home, you may refer to me as Craig the Gigantic.
Friday dinner at the DFAC is Surf and Turf night. Everyone here talks about how great the food is on Friday nights. So much so, that one of the Warrant Officers personally escorted me to the DFAC for dinner. TCNs were cooking T-bones outside on a 10’ x 10’ pit with wire mesh covering it; without a doubt the smell was convincing. I asked for the rarest steak they had and accepted only one lobster tail and one ladle-full of breaded shrimp. Maybe it’s just me or maybe I’m a product of my environment, but rare T-bone steaks should be tender and pink on the inside. I prefer lobster tails steamed and from an ocean, not plucked out of some oil-rich gulf then boiled for four hours in barely potable water. And lastly, I prefer my shrimp not to be cooked in the fry cooker at the end of the day at Burger King. Next time, I’ll just have the salad.
Holy cow! We had a health and welfare inspection this morning. These inspections are only done for two reasons: 1) Because you have to annually, or 2) because the command suspects someone has contraband and cannot single anyone out, so they must look through everyone’s stuff. When the First Sergeant knocked on my door and stuck his head in, he said, “Sir, do you have any contraband?” I replied with, “No”. He then said “Very well, have a nice day, sir.” and went to the next room. It’s a damn good thing he didn’t ask me if I had gallons of Jack Daniels in my room because I would have been unable to lie to the First Sergeant! That was close!
Ed and Greg are flying to Afghanistan today to assist me with the multitude of vehicles that I have here to work on. They left Iraq this afternoon (the 18th) and should arrive on the 21st. Yep, three-and-a-half days to fly from Iraq to Afghanistan. Isn’t it obvious to you that they must first fly to Kuwait, wait two days, and then fly here? Makes sense to me; it’s no doubt an Air Force thing. No wonder J. William Q. was always spending extra days in theater to get his month tax-free.
I played poker last night with Brian and his accumulated buddies/work mates. I was doing OK, until I began to wane interest sometime after 2330. I finally went all in on three 7s in Texas Hold ‘em and lost to a full house. My total buy-in for four hours of poker and hangin’ with the guys: priceless (no, make that $10 USD).
Dad-gum! Ed and Greg came in a day early. Ed called me from the Bagram passenger (PAX) terminal and said he was here. I did not completely have their billeting available, but were able to get them into appropriate quarters. I gave them a quick lay of the land last night in the dark and put them to bed about 2200. It was good to see Ed and the big smile on his face, because he is slowly checking off every Arab country that he gets to carry a weapon in.
See you next week…
Craig
Nov 18, 2006
Nov 12, 2006
WEEK 1
November 6-13, 2006
Yes, I have been asked many times recently why I would want to leave my family and friends and travel half-way around the world to work in a third-world country. It is not an easy question to answer especially since I really did not want to leave my family. Sure, there is that level of excitement, mediocre living conditions, and the concern of working in an area considered to be a combat environment. But, I believe the reason I agreed to this is because I needed to start a job with potential career opportunities that built upon my capabilities and provided a service to those who need it most.
I have spent the last couple of months training and preparing for this little adventure to Afghanistan to supervise the engineering, fabrication, and installation of polyethylene armor into civilian vehicles. These vehicles are owned by our own Special Operations Command and are used to conduct confidential missions within Afghanistan and Iraq. The armor that my company produces will protect American Airmen, Marines, Sailors, and Soldiers.
In any case, this job pays pretty well, I’ll get the traveling out of the way early, and I had Kristine’s blessing.
Kris and I talked frequently about dropping me off at the airport on the 6th. We promised each other that we wouldn’t cry or get overly emotional. We worked at preparation and seemed satisfied we were ready for my departure. We arrived at SeaTac and all was going according to plan until I hopped back in to the Suburban to give Cole and Nikki a hug and a kiss. They were both crying and muttering about missing me. I hugged and kissed them, said a few words, and jumped back out of the Sub to look at Kris. She had seen and heard the kids and was now crying as well. That hug, that kiss was the most difficult goodbye I have experienced. The walk into the airport was the longest walk of my life.
Most of you know Ed E. LifePort is armoring vehicles in Afghanistan and Iraq. When in the initial stages of interviewing with LifePort, they were looking for another Armor Supervisor in addition to me. When asked if I knew of anyone, I could think of no one better than Ed. Ed came on board shortly after I did. At some stage, LifePort thought it prudent to have two folks at each location and through that process wound up hiring two guys with Auto CAD experience, Greg B from somewhere in Minnesota and Craig D from fabulous Puyallup.
We didn’t pick our teams or locations; LifePort did that for us. You know how business calculus works, so Ed and Greg were assigned to Iraq and Craig and I were assigned to Afghanistan. The reason Craig D is currently not with us is because he came late in the training cycle and is in training now.
Ed, Greg, and I found our way to security. The new laws governing liquids in your carry-on was a concern for me because I had purchased a ten-pack of 50ml Jim Beam bottles for that special occasion. The guy at the x-ray asked me if I had any liquids in my carry-on. I produced the yellow cardboard package and showed him. He took a quick look, put them into a round tub and ran it through the machine. The x-ray operator scanned my Jim Beam. She then asked me if I knew the total limit of liquids that I could carry on board an airplane. I said I was unaware. She told me that I would have to leave four of the bottles unless I wanted to share them with her now. Who was I to argue with authority? She gave a quick laugh and said maybe next time. I made it through with all ten.
Nine hours on a plane with free alcohol doesn’t sound like a bad deal until your back-side starts to complain. You can only sit there or lay back so much before you have to get up and do something. I know why they give you free alcohol. You are expected to have a couple drinks, watch one of the movies available, and fall asleep. Unfortunately I wanted to get up and move around. Where is the running track or the gym? There is only so much room to walk around and no matter how many times you walk from one end of the airplane to the other you still do not want to sit down again.
Finally, Heathrow International Airport! Since we landed at the international terminal, which is #4, you have to take the train to Terminals 1, 2, or 3 to leave the airport. Maybe it’s just me, or Ed, or Greg, but getting to the correct train to leave the airport was no simple matter. The signage and arrows in the airport really seem to make little sense. We asked several airport employees and although I know they speak English, we had a communication barrier. Needless to say, we found our way to Terminal 1 and to then to our hotel about one mile away.
We took a taxi to the hotel from the airport. Had we known it was virtually around the corner, we would have just pushed one of those baggage trolleys to the hotel and saved the 10 pounds it cost the three of us in one taxi. That’s almost $20 U.S. Dollars for a five minute ride. That’s ten more pounds I could have spent on beer! I would have gladly walked the mile for that incentive.
I know it had been five years since I was in London last, but I thought I knew my way around better that I obviously did. Like in any town, businesses come and go, but guiding off landmarks should be easy and London has many. We got a map of London and began perusing. Right away, we noticed there are hardly any street signs. Did London take down the signs during World War II so the Germans couldn’t find their way around and forget to put them back up? It’s been 60 years and the Germans are no longer a threat. Hey, London! It’s time to put the signs back up.
We did manage to find a few pubs and decided to try different brands at each location. I decided early on not to blow more than $100 large on beer. Fortunately, my consuming prowess is no longer at college level and I had no trouble staying below my threshold.
The next morning we took a shuttle to the airport (saved that 10 pounds) and proceeded to Terminal 4 and to security. The English-speaking guy by the x-ray machine asked me if I had any liquids in my carry-on. Once again, I produced my lovely yellow ten-pack. He looked at it inquisitively and walked it over to another security agent. The two of them looked it over, brought it back to the x-ray machine, put it in a tub and ran it through. At this point, I was walking through the scanner to the opposite end of the x-ray. One of the agents handed me a plastic Ziploc bag and told me to put the bottles of Jim Beam in the bag. He watched me as I did this and then snatched the bag out of my hands, walked it back to the entrance of the x-ray, placed it in another tub, and ran it back through the x-ray. At that point, it was OK for me to take my liquor with me.
Obviously the yellow cardboard carton that the Jim Beam neatly resided in could be used in some negative or people-harming way on an airplane, according to the Brits. I’m sure glad they are aware of this danger and hope they pass that information on to the states and places like SeaTac who let me carry that harmful device on an airplane.
Well, the flight from London to Bahrain and then to Doha was uneventful. I took a lot more advantage of the free alcohol during these legs and actually managed to snooze a little. Once on the ground in Qatar, we were paraded through the immigration and customs areas and forced to buy a three-week visa. The visa cost 55 Qatari Riyals or about $18 USD.
A U.S. Navy SEAL met us at the airport and was our driver to Camp As Sayliyah (CAS). What an experience. He put us in a Ford Expedition and careened his way through some of the worst drivers I have ever seen. I thought the Koreans held the title of the worst drivers in the world, but they take a back seat to the Qataris. After about a 20 minute drive we had to go through security which included looking through, under, and around our vehicle with mirrors, dogs, and electronic equipment. All told, an hour was spent being cleared by the three stages of security to get into a base that has had no attacks in the past two years.
We were housed in a giant warehouse that was approximately 200 meters long and 75 meters wide. Inside were 20’ connexes (containers, mil vans) stacked two high and aligned back-to-back in rows. Inside each connex was two wall lockers, two beds, a table, a 20” TV and a DVD player, complete with air conditioning. These were not too bad and had showers and toilets attached to the warehouse. We found out later these are referred to as CHUs or Container Housing Units. If this was the housing we were going to be provided in theater then things were looking OK.
We arrived in Qatar late on the 8th and by the time we got into our CHUs it was the 9th. We were given a general direction of where we should report around 0900 the next morning. Of course it was a mile or two hike in 90+ degree weather to get to the Special Operations Command Central (SOCCENT) location. I planned my clothing around Afghanistan’s weather which is very Tacoma-like. I was sweating more than a turkey the day before Thanksgiving. Anyway, once we met up with our points of contact (POCs), all became well.
The SOCCENT guys gave us a fully armored Toyota Land Cruiser to drive around CAS. They also wanted us to check it out and let them know if it warranted putting extra dollars into. We drove that thing around for four days and only put 42 miles on it. It was top heavy, the suspension was not designed for the extreme amount of armor weight, the engine (4.7L V8) was sluggish, the armored windows would not roll down, the doors were difficult to close because they weighed so much, however, the air conditioning worked like a champ. It was a 2002 Land Cruiser with leather and the navigation system. Yes, I think dropping another $5K into the suspension seemed reasonable.
I got to spend Veteran’s Day on a military installation halfway around the world with one of the single greatest Veterans I have ever known. I waited until 0530 in the morning on the 11th to wake Ed up and announce “Happy Veteran’s Day, Ed”! He wasn’t quite as excited about it as I was at that time of day, but warmed up to my greeting a few hours later. We spent the rest of the day walking around CAS and congratulating and thanking the U.S. joint forces.
Finally we received our flight assignments out of Qatar. I was beginning to go mad because of the monotony. Four days on CAS in Doha, Qatar with nothing to do was about three-and-a-half days too long. Obviously, our flight times were not close. Ed and Greg had a show-time at the Al Udeid airport (U.S. Air Force controlled) at 0400 on the 13th of November and my show-time was 2215 on the 13th. I took Ed and Greg to the armory at 0230 to draw their weapons then helped them put their equipment into another vehicle with a driver for the trip to Al Udeid.
I gave Ed a big hug before he left as I didn’t know when I was going to see him again and because we’ve spent the last couple of months working closely together, and I kind of like the guy. Although it was not as difficult as saying goodbye to Kris and the kids, it was still kind of hard.
I went back to my CHU and tried to go back to sleep, but couldn’t. I wound up typing parts of this, playing a computer game, and repacking my stuff. I spent the remainder of the day screwing around, sending email, making some phone calls, and otherwise being bored. Finally at 1930, I went to the armory to draw my pistol and ammunition, loaded my stuff into my driver’s vehicle, and checked out with SOCCENT. By 2000 hours I was on my way to Al Udeid.
I’ll pick up with my Week 2 narrative from this point.
Because the fastest internet connection I have access to is a screaming 100 Mbs (some of the time), I have been compiling pictures and will put them on a CD. I should get that CD in the mail to most of you before Christmas.
Let me know if there are any questions.
Craig
Yes, I have been asked many times recently why I would want to leave my family and friends and travel half-way around the world to work in a third-world country. It is not an easy question to answer especially since I really did not want to leave my family. Sure, there is that level of excitement, mediocre living conditions, and the concern of working in an area considered to be a combat environment. But, I believe the reason I agreed to this is because I needed to start a job with potential career opportunities that built upon my capabilities and provided a service to those who need it most.
I have spent the last couple of months training and preparing for this little adventure to Afghanistan to supervise the engineering, fabrication, and installation of polyethylene armor into civilian vehicles. These vehicles are owned by our own Special Operations Command and are used to conduct confidential missions within Afghanistan and Iraq. The armor that my company produces will protect American Airmen, Marines, Sailors, and Soldiers.
In any case, this job pays pretty well, I’ll get the traveling out of the way early, and I had Kristine’s blessing.
Kris and I talked frequently about dropping me off at the airport on the 6th. We promised each other that we wouldn’t cry or get overly emotional. We worked at preparation and seemed satisfied we were ready for my departure. We arrived at SeaTac and all was going according to plan until I hopped back in to the Suburban to give Cole and Nikki a hug and a kiss. They were both crying and muttering about missing me. I hugged and kissed them, said a few words, and jumped back out of the Sub to look at Kris. She had seen and heard the kids and was now crying as well. That hug, that kiss was the most difficult goodbye I have experienced. The walk into the airport was the longest walk of my life.
Most of you know Ed E. LifePort is armoring vehicles in Afghanistan and Iraq. When in the initial stages of interviewing with LifePort, they were looking for another Armor Supervisor in addition to me. When asked if I knew of anyone, I could think of no one better than Ed. Ed came on board shortly after I did. At some stage, LifePort thought it prudent to have two folks at each location and through that process wound up hiring two guys with Auto CAD experience, Greg B from somewhere in Minnesota and Craig D from fabulous Puyallup.
We didn’t pick our teams or locations; LifePort did that for us. You know how business calculus works, so Ed and Greg were assigned to Iraq and Craig and I were assigned to Afghanistan. The reason Craig D is currently not with us is because he came late in the training cycle and is in training now.
Ed, Greg, and I found our way to security. The new laws governing liquids in your carry-on was a concern for me because I had purchased a ten-pack of 50ml Jim Beam bottles for that special occasion. The guy at the x-ray asked me if I had any liquids in my carry-on. I produced the yellow cardboard package and showed him. He took a quick look, put them into a round tub and ran it through the machine. The x-ray operator scanned my Jim Beam. She then asked me if I knew the total limit of liquids that I could carry on board an airplane. I said I was unaware. She told me that I would have to leave four of the bottles unless I wanted to share them with her now. Who was I to argue with authority? She gave a quick laugh and said maybe next time. I made it through with all ten.
Nine hours on a plane with free alcohol doesn’t sound like a bad deal until your back-side starts to complain. You can only sit there or lay back so much before you have to get up and do something. I know why they give you free alcohol. You are expected to have a couple drinks, watch one of the movies available, and fall asleep. Unfortunately I wanted to get up and move around. Where is the running track or the gym? There is only so much room to walk around and no matter how many times you walk from one end of the airplane to the other you still do not want to sit down again.
Finally, Heathrow International Airport! Since we landed at the international terminal, which is #4, you have to take the train to Terminals 1, 2, or 3 to leave the airport. Maybe it’s just me, or Ed, or Greg, but getting to the correct train to leave the airport was no simple matter. The signage and arrows in the airport really seem to make little sense. We asked several airport employees and although I know they speak English, we had a communication barrier. Needless to say, we found our way to Terminal 1 and to then to our hotel about one mile away.
We took a taxi to the hotel from the airport. Had we known it was virtually around the corner, we would have just pushed one of those baggage trolleys to the hotel and saved the 10 pounds it cost the three of us in one taxi. That’s almost $20 U.S. Dollars for a five minute ride. That’s ten more pounds I could have spent on beer! I would have gladly walked the mile for that incentive.
I know it had been five years since I was in London last, but I thought I knew my way around better that I obviously did. Like in any town, businesses come and go, but guiding off landmarks should be easy and London has many. We got a map of London and began perusing. Right away, we noticed there are hardly any street signs. Did London take down the signs during World War II so the Germans couldn’t find their way around and forget to put them back up? It’s been 60 years and the Germans are no longer a threat. Hey, London! It’s time to put the signs back up.
We did manage to find a few pubs and decided to try different brands at each location. I decided early on not to blow more than $100 large on beer. Fortunately, my consuming prowess is no longer at college level and I had no trouble staying below my threshold.
The next morning we took a shuttle to the airport (saved that 10 pounds) and proceeded to Terminal 4 and to security. The English-speaking guy by the x-ray machine asked me if I had any liquids in my carry-on. Once again, I produced my lovely yellow ten-pack. He looked at it inquisitively and walked it over to another security agent. The two of them looked it over, brought it back to the x-ray machine, put it in a tub and ran it through. At this point, I was walking through the scanner to the opposite end of the x-ray. One of the agents handed me a plastic Ziploc bag and told me to put the bottles of Jim Beam in the bag. He watched me as I did this and then snatched the bag out of my hands, walked it back to the entrance of the x-ray, placed it in another tub, and ran it back through the x-ray. At that point, it was OK for me to take my liquor with me.
Obviously the yellow cardboard carton that the Jim Beam neatly resided in could be used in some negative or people-harming way on an airplane, according to the Brits. I’m sure glad they are aware of this danger and hope they pass that information on to the states and places like SeaTac who let me carry that harmful device on an airplane.
Well, the flight from London to Bahrain and then to Doha was uneventful. I took a lot more advantage of the free alcohol during these legs and actually managed to snooze a little. Once on the ground in Qatar, we were paraded through the immigration and customs areas and forced to buy a three-week visa. The visa cost 55 Qatari Riyals or about $18 USD.
A U.S. Navy SEAL met us at the airport and was our driver to Camp As Sayliyah (CAS). What an experience. He put us in a Ford Expedition and careened his way through some of the worst drivers I have ever seen. I thought the Koreans held the title of the worst drivers in the world, but they take a back seat to the Qataris. After about a 20 minute drive we had to go through security which included looking through, under, and around our vehicle with mirrors, dogs, and electronic equipment. All told, an hour was spent being cleared by the three stages of security to get into a base that has had no attacks in the past two years.
We were housed in a giant warehouse that was approximately 200 meters long and 75 meters wide. Inside were 20’ connexes (containers, mil vans) stacked two high and aligned back-to-back in rows. Inside each connex was two wall lockers, two beds, a table, a 20” TV and a DVD player, complete with air conditioning. These were not too bad and had showers and toilets attached to the warehouse. We found out later these are referred to as CHUs or Container Housing Units. If this was the housing we were going to be provided in theater then things were looking OK.
We arrived in Qatar late on the 8th and by the time we got into our CHUs it was the 9th. We were given a general direction of where we should report around 0900 the next morning. Of course it was a mile or two hike in 90+ degree weather to get to the Special Operations Command Central (SOCCENT) location. I planned my clothing around Afghanistan’s weather which is very Tacoma-like. I was sweating more than a turkey the day before Thanksgiving. Anyway, once we met up with our points of contact (POCs), all became well.
The SOCCENT guys gave us a fully armored Toyota Land Cruiser to drive around CAS. They also wanted us to check it out and let them know if it warranted putting extra dollars into. We drove that thing around for four days and only put 42 miles on it. It was top heavy, the suspension was not designed for the extreme amount of armor weight, the engine (4.7L V8) was sluggish, the armored windows would not roll down, the doors were difficult to close because they weighed so much, however, the air conditioning worked like a champ. It was a 2002 Land Cruiser with leather and the navigation system. Yes, I think dropping another $5K into the suspension seemed reasonable.
I got to spend Veteran’s Day on a military installation halfway around the world with one of the single greatest Veterans I have ever known. I waited until 0530 in the morning on the 11th to wake Ed up and announce “Happy Veteran’s Day, Ed”! He wasn’t quite as excited about it as I was at that time of day, but warmed up to my greeting a few hours later. We spent the rest of the day walking around CAS and congratulating and thanking the U.S. joint forces.
Finally we received our flight assignments out of Qatar. I was beginning to go mad because of the monotony. Four days on CAS in Doha, Qatar with nothing to do was about three-and-a-half days too long. Obviously, our flight times were not close. Ed and Greg had a show-time at the Al Udeid airport (U.S. Air Force controlled) at 0400 on the 13th of November and my show-time was 2215 on the 13th. I took Ed and Greg to the armory at 0230 to draw their weapons then helped them put their equipment into another vehicle with a driver for the trip to Al Udeid.
I gave Ed a big hug before he left as I didn’t know when I was going to see him again and because we’ve spent the last couple of months working closely together, and I kind of like the guy. Although it was not as difficult as saying goodbye to Kris and the kids, it was still kind of hard.
I went back to my CHU and tried to go back to sleep, but couldn’t. I wound up typing parts of this, playing a computer game, and repacking my stuff. I spent the remainder of the day screwing around, sending email, making some phone calls, and otherwise being bored. Finally at 1930, I went to the armory to draw my pistol and ammunition, loaded my stuff into my driver’s vehicle, and checked out with SOCCENT. By 2000 hours I was on my way to Al Udeid.
I’ll pick up with my Week 2 narrative from this point.
Because the fastest internet connection I have access to is a screaming 100 Mbs (some of the time), I have been compiling pictures and will put them on a CD. I should get that CD in the mail to most of you before Christmas.
Let me know if there are any questions.
Craig
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