No shit, there I was?.
It was the summer of 2003. I knew that I was assigned to a mobility position (for the non military in the audience, universal translators will be provided throughout this epic. Translation: I could go anytime, anywhere if Uncle Sam put out the call), but I was the alternate, not the primary on the list. As such, I didn?t really worry too much about it; if the call came, then Gary was going barring some hideous accident.
Cue the hideous accident. About 60 days before the trip was supposed to happen, some total bastard decided to burn down the development behind Gary?s house in an act of industrial sabotage. The Air Force decided to do the right thing and spare him from having to deal with a deployment right after the tragedy, so time for me to prepare!
This is in no way meant to be a ?woe is me, this was so horrible for me!? narrative. I am fully aware that I volunteered for the military and all the risks that are part and parcel of that choice. I am going to try to tell of my experiences; good, bad and ugly.
The total upheaval of emotions leading up to your first deployment is rather amazing, especially if it is into a combat zone. I was eager to go because I like new experiences and I needed it for my professional development. On the other hand, I really did not want to spend several months away from my wife and children while dodging mortar fragments and other high velocity lead. The whipsawing emotions are something they tell you to expect, but it just doesn?t prepare you for the actual experience. The really fun part is the panic as the date gets closer and you start trying to second guess your packing decisions?do I take the extra baby wipes? Do I have room for the laptop, or should I leave it? Did I pack enough soap? The mundane details are what will really drive you insane?.
One of the other frustrations was being in briefings with the other team deploying from our hospital. My team was going to Iraq; the other team was going to a support hospital in Germany. The jealousy factor kicked in as we sat in the first briefing and our Public Health officer informed us of the dangers of the respective areas we would be deploying to?. In Iraq, my team was going to have to watch out for poisonous snakes, scorpions, camel spiders (vicious bastards that move like lightning and can JUMP!) and a host of bugs that can transmit malaria and leshimaniasis; the team going to Germany had to worry about snow, bad beer and hookers carrying sexually transmitted diseases. Beer and hookers or spiders and bugs? Sigh, no beer for me!
While we are on the subject of briefings, can we pause for a moment and insert a heartfelt request that they include accurate data? The people who are supposed to be the experts about the locations gave us such horrible stories about the base that I was going to that it was an incredible stress inducer. From the pictures they painted, Tallil Air Base was the kind of nightmare that would give Rambo the raging willies. The reality was that I deployed to what was arguably the safest location (at the time anyway; remember this was before al-Sadr?s Mahdi Militia took over the neighboring town) in Iraq. I will give my supporting arguments for that statement later?.
So, now it?s time to mention the rest of the crew that I am going with: from my office, I am taking one of the best troops that we have in the shop, my flight commander (who I don?t really get along with), our Public Health officer (who NOBODY gets along with) and 2 of his technicians, then a slew of medics to staff the emergency room.
You know, I suppose that I should tell you what I do for the Air Force, just so you can figure out where I fit here. I am a Bioenvironmental Engineering Technician, which is a fancy way of saying that I do everything from preventative occupational health assessments (trying to keep people from getting sick due to job related stuff) to environmental sampling to nuclear, biological and chemical warfare defense. I work for the hospital commander, but have nothing to do with people as patients. Most of my job is a cross between civil engineering and a safety inspector. That being said, back to our regularly scheduled programming!
The day finally arrives; time to head for the airport after a load of tearful goodbyes. The kids were put to bed, my wife tried to keep from crying where I could see her...with varying degrees of success. My ride comes over and starts helping me load my gear into the van. We get to the airport and run into a minor snag.
Have you ever tried to carry a case of weapons into an airport? If so, have you done it since the September 11th attacks? The airline staff treats it as routine, especially since they are next to a large military base. The other people in the ticketing line don?t handle it so well. You have to open the case and demonstrate to the baggage handlers that your rifle and pistol are unloaded before they will let you check the firearms. I also had my Gerber, boot knife and field knife in the case. So, when I open the case, the little old lady on her way home from wearing out the slot machines in Las Vegas sees my minor arsenal and immediately loses it. ?AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! He?s got GUNS!? 20 minutes and a small riot later, my weapons are cleared to be checked.
The trip over was pretty uneventful. The only problem I had with it is the fact that I have a really hard time sleeping on airplanes. It took 3 days to get me from Nevada to Iraq. I slept for about 3 hours during the entire process. By the time I got to Tallil, I was wiped out and ready to crash. It did mean that my circadian rhythm adjusted almost instantly. I woke up at the crack of dawn and was raring to go. ?Morning person? is about the least likely description that anyone could say about me, but for the first month I could NOT sleep in!
My first impressions of the country were pretty anti-climactic. A wave of heat combined with the sleep deprivation had me feeling a bit nauseous after the combat landing. For those who have never had the pleasure of a flight into a combat zone, let me describe your loss. The air traffic controller in charge of your approach to the air field gives the incoming pilot a location and altitude. Once the pilot hits that particular point in space, he or she is now free to take a random and unpredictable approach to the runway itself. Depending on your location in relation to the runway and your pilot?s desire to test your constitution and susceptibility to airsickness, this can mean a tight spiral all the way to the ground, a sudden drop of 3000 feet or some meandering path that would astound an epileptic snake. Our pilot decided on a combination of all 3 methods. From what I had been led to expect, we should have been under fire on the flight into the base and subjected to constant mortar attack. All I saw at the terminal was the most run down control tower, a beat up building and a hanger that was mostly torn down to the aluminum support struts.
The hanger was massive, and seeing it so beat up was impressive. The materials of the roof were gone, the girders deformed where the bunker busting bomb had blasted through the roof. The walls (what little were still standing) were pockmarked on the inside from the shrapnel from the blast. I was later informed that the hangers had been bombed in the first Gulf War. To be honest, I was impressed that it was still mostly upright after so many years. Over the next few days, as the team we were replacing were showing us around the base, I saw even more impressive proof of the effectiveness of our air power.
The base facilities at Tallil were built for Hussein by the French. According to rumor, the hardened aircraft shelters had been constructed with a guarantee from the French that nothing short of a nuke would be able to penetrate them. I wish that I had a picture of it, but I will have to try to explain this in words instead. Picture a building that is basically a half cylinder lying on the ground. It is made of heavily reinforced concrete and is something like 80 feet tall and about 250 feet long. The heavy doors that are on the front of this building are buckled out and folded in the middle, looking like they had been hit with a huge battering ram from the inside. On the left side, the exterior roof has a small hole in it, no more than 5 feet across and probably quite less, about halfway down the length of the structure. The truly impressive part is evident when you get to the rear of the shelter. What was obviously the solid wall at the back has been blown clear away from the rest. The rebar hanging off the sides of both the main structure and the rear wall show that it was constructed as a single piece with the doors on the front tacked on after the main building was built. A single bomb was able to punch through the roof as if it was warm butter and blast the ?impenetrable? bunker apart. I wonder if Saddam was ever able to get a refund from the construction company?.
It was the summer of 2003. I knew that I was assigned to a mobility position (for the non military in the audience, universal translators will be provided throughout this epic. Translation: I could go anytime, anywhere if Uncle Sam put out the call), but I was the alternate, not the primary on the list. As such, I didn?t really worry too much about it; if the call came, then Gary was going barring some hideous accident.
Cue the hideous accident. About 60 days before the trip was supposed to happen, some total bastard decided to burn down the development behind Gary?s house in an act of industrial sabotage. The Air Force decided to do the right thing and spare him from having to deal with a deployment right after the tragedy, so time for me to prepare!
This is in no way meant to be a ?woe is me, this was so horrible for me!? narrative. I am fully aware that I volunteered for the military and all the risks that are part and parcel of that choice. I am going to try to tell of my experiences; good, bad and ugly.
The total upheaval of emotions leading up to your first deployment is rather amazing, especially if it is into a combat zone. I was eager to go because I like new experiences and I needed it for my professional development. On the other hand, I really did not want to spend several months away from my wife and children while dodging mortar fragments and other high velocity lead. The whipsawing emotions are something they tell you to expect, but it just doesn?t prepare you for the actual experience. The really fun part is the panic as the date gets closer and you start trying to second guess your packing decisions?do I take the extra baby wipes? Do I have room for the laptop, or should I leave it? Did I pack enough soap? The mundane details are what will really drive you insane?.
One of the other frustrations was being in briefings with the other team deploying from our hospital. My team was going to Iraq; the other team was going to a support hospital in Germany. The jealousy factor kicked in as we sat in the first briefing and our Public Health officer informed us of the dangers of the respective areas we would be deploying to?. In Iraq, my team was going to have to watch out for poisonous snakes, scorpions, camel spiders (vicious bastards that move like lightning and can JUMP!) and a host of bugs that can transmit malaria and leshimaniasis; the team going to Germany had to worry about snow, bad beer and hookers carrying sexually transmitted diseases. Beer and hookers or spiders and bugs? Sigh, no beer for me!
While we are on the subject of briefings, can we pause for a moment and insert a heartfelt request that they include accurate data? The people who are supposed to be the experts about the locations gave us such horrible stories about the base that I was going to that it was an incredible stress inducer. From the pictures they painted, Tallil Air Base was the kind of nightmare that would give Rambo the raging willies. The reality was that I deployed to what was arguably the safest location (at the time anyway; remember this was before al-Sadr?s Mahdi Militia took over the neighboring town) in Iraq. I will give my supporting arguments for that statement later?.
So, now it?s time to mention the rest of the crew that I am going with: from my office, I am taking one of the best troops that we have in the shop, my flight commander (who I don?t really get along with), our Public Health officer (who NOBODY gets along with) and 2 of his technicians, then a slew of medics to staff the emergency room.
You know, I suppose that I should tell you what I do for the Air Force, just so you can figure out where I fit here. I am a Bioenvironmental Engineering Technician, which is a fancy way of saying that I do everything from preventative occupational health assessments (trying to keep people from getting sick due to job related stuff) to environmental sampling to nuclear, biological and chemical warfare defense. I work for the hospital commander, but have nothing to do with people as patients. Most of my job is a cross between civil engineering and a safety inspector. That being said, back to our regularly scheduled programming!
The day finally arrives; time to head for the airport after a load of tearful goodbyes. The kids were put to bed, my wife tried to keep from crying where I could see her...with varying degrees of success. My ride comes over and starts helping me load my gear into the van. We get to the airport and run into a minor snag.
Have you ever tried to carry a case of weapons into an airport? If so, have you done it since the September 11th attacks? The airline staff treats it as routine, especially since they are next to a large military base. The other people in the ticketing line don?t handle it so well. You have to open the case and demonstrate to the baggage handlers that your rifle and pistol are unloaded before they will let you check the firearms. I also had my Gerber, boot knife and field knife in the case. So, when I open the case, the little old lady on her way home from wearing out the slot machines in Las Vegas sees my minor arsenal and immediately loses it. ?AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! He?s got GUNS!? 20 minutes and a small riot later, my weapons are cleared to be checked.
The trip over was pretty uneventful. The only problem I had with it is the fact that I have a really hard time sleeping on airplanes. It took 3 days to get me from Nevada to Iraq. I slept for about 3 hours during the entire process. By the time I got to Tallil, I was wiped out and ready to crash. It did mean that my circadian rhythm adjusted almost instantly. I woke up at the crack of dawn and was raring to go. ?Morning person? is about the least likely description that anyone could say about me, but for the first month I could NOT sleep in!
My first impressions of the country were pretty anti-climactic. A wave of heat combined with the sleep deprivation had me feeling a bit nauseous after the combat landing. For those who have never had the pleasure of a flight into a combat zone, let me describe your loss. The air traffic controller in charge of your approach to the air field gives the incoming pilot a location and altitude. Once the pilot hits that particular point in space, he or she is now free to take a random and unpredictable approach to the runway itself. Depending on your location in relation to the runway and your pilot?s desire to test your constitution and susceptibility to airsickness, this can mean a tight spiral all the way to the ground, a sudden drop of 3000 feet or some meandering path that would astound an epileptic snake. Our pilot decided on a combination of all 3 methods. From what I had been led to expect, we should have been under fire on the flight into the base and subjected to constant mortar attack. All I saw at the terminal was the most run down control tower, a beat up building and a hanger that was mostly torn down to the aluminum support struts.
The hanger was massive, and seeing it so beat up was impressive. The materials of the roof were gone, the girders deformed where the bunker busting bomb had blasted through the roof. The walls (what little were still standing) were pockmarked on the inside from the shrapnel from the blast. I was later informed that the hangers had been bombed in the first Gulf War. To be honest, I was impressed that it was still mostly upright after so many years. Over the next few days, as the team we were replacing were showing us around the base, I saw even more impressive proof of the effectiveness of our air power.
The base facilities at Tallil were built for Hussein by the French. According to rumor, the hardened aircraft shelters had been constructed with a guarantee from the French that nothing short of a nuke would be able to penetrate them. I wish that I had a picture of it, but I will have to try to explain this in words instead. Picture a building that is basically a half cylinder lying on the ground. It is made of heavily reinforced concrete and is something like 80 feet tall and about 250 feet long. The heavy doors that are on the front of this building are buckled out and folded in the middle, looking like they had been hit with a huge battering ram from the inside. On the left side, the exterior roof has a small hole in it, no more than 5 feet across and probably quite less, about halfway down the length of the structure. The truly impressive part is evident when you get to the rear of the shelter. What was obviously the solid wall at the back has been blown clear away from the rest. The rebar hanging off the sides of both the main structure and the rear wall show that it was constructed as a single piece with the doors on the front tacked on after the main building was built. A single bomb was able to punch through the roof as if it was warm butter and blast the ?impenetrable? bunker apart. I wonder if Saddam was ever able to get a refund from the construction company?.
