I almost came face-to-face with one of the realities of war yesterday. Knowing I was that close to it gave me pause to consider where I am and what's going on beyond that fence we call the perimeter.
I went to the hospital to volunteer as I've done a lot lately. There were eight volunteers when I first got there, and by about 11:30 a.m. the number had lowered to six and several faces had changed.
I heard a voice on the loudspeaker announce, 'S-O-D to I-C-U. . . S-O-D to I-C-U.' I guessed that they were calling for something like 'Surgeon of the Day' meaning the on-call doctor or surgeon. The person was being called to the ICU, which told me there was an emergency.
About 30 minutes later, one of the sergeants came out and said she needed two volunteers. Everyone looked up. The staff normally takes four or five, the numbers required to take someone off a helo or put them on. Plus that, there's usually a lot going on when they know there's a helo coming in. Today there was none of that.
We all sat there quietly, waiting for more. She said they'd had a death -- ahhh, the ICU emergency probably led to this -- and she needed two people to help her move the body to the morgue.
A guy in the front row immediately volunteered. The two very young male soldiers or airmen on the back row didn't. They looked all of 18, so I was glad they didn't. The older sergeant to my left didn't. That left a young female and me. I raised my hand and said okay. She needed help, right? I could do this.
Apparently the young airman behind me also said okay. I turned around to look at her. She was halfway out of her seat, so I just said, 'Go ahead.' I second- guessed myself later. Maybe she would've preferred I'd gone instead. She was young -- she shouldn't have to see such things.
The two volunteers walked away with the sergeant and came back about 15 minutes later, a bit somber. The male worked at the hospital anyway and was deep in thought. He'd probably done this before. The young woman went back to reading her book. I wanted to ask her if she were okay but didn't know her and didn't want to intrude.
The male left shortly after that. About 15 minutes later, two more volunteers came in, laughing and joking. It seemed inappropriate, even though they had no idea what had just happened. (Even the PAD staff in the next room was subdued after that.) The female volunteer got up and left. I saw that she had some sort of band on her jacket sleeve, so she was probably a military cop. I felt a little better after that, assuming she's seen some things because of her job.
The whole experience was unsettling. Someone less than 100 feet away from me had just died. Was it a soldier or other US service member, an Iraqi detainee? a US civilian/contractor or third country national? an Iraqi civilian or child? I don't know. No one said. It wouldn't have been in good taste to ask.
The person could've gotten extremely sick or had a heart attack. But let's face it. . . it was probably war-related. I know that I'm sitting here in a war zone. That people die over here every day, probably less than 100 miles away. Maybe even 20 miles away. I know that there are people right outside the fence who try to harm us from time to time. I know this is a bad place to be.
Still, here I sit in my office with nice computers, a coffee pot, an internet cafe, a toilet down the hall. The PX is across the street, with the beauty shop, Subway and BK right next door to that. I have a decent room with a TV.
I volunteer at the hospital almost daily. But the worst I've seen is a patient with bandages. No trauma. No death.
But today it was nearby. And it spooked me. And it reminded me of the stark reality of war.
Stay in touch when you're away with Windows Live Messenger. IM anytime you're online.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Daylight
Sunrise on the front
This is what the area near my office looked like around 4:30 a.m. today. I've seen a lot of dust here, but this is the worst/thickest to date. When the dust is like this, things get hinky. I'll have to explain that another time.
I get off at 6 a.m. and had planned to go to the hospital to volunteer in the PAD. But with weather like this, no helos will be flying in.
I would go for a walk, since it's still nice and cool -- relatively speaking -- at this time of day. But I won't do it in this weather. And I would go work out, but both pair of gym shorts are in the laundry.
Guess I'll just have to take the morning to myself. . . That means settling down with a good book and/or a movie.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
thanks, mony, for the hat!
i needed a boonie-style hat, and mony came to the rescue. these are much more comfy than baseball caps, which is all i had to wear with civvies.
Friday, July 25, 2008
I’m the wheel man!
Also submitted this to the Red Cross blog:
I returned to the hospital at 8 p.m. A civilian was lying on a gurney waiting to be transported. People were milling around, waiting for the helo. I went to sign in. The NCO at the desk asked if I’d had the training yet. Yes, but is it okay if I just watch? Yes, but just be sure to stand back so they don’t pick you when they’re getting the team together. No problem.
When the time came for the patient to be loaded onto the helo, there were four volunteers and myself in the waiting room. The guy in charge was picking his team – it takes five to upload the helo. He counted four then pointed to me. The NCO I’d spoken to earlier told him I was new and just wanted to watch. He said something, then she turned to me and asked if I would mind. Who can say no when you’re actually needed?
She told me I could be the wheel man. That’s the team member who, once the litter has been unsecured from the gurney and lifted off of it, pulls the gurney by the wheel out from under the litter. This allows the guys carrying the litter to move forward and upload the patient. Yes! This is a job I can handle.
I asked her to tell me again exactly what I needed to do. I didn’t want to make a mistake. In addition to concerns about the patient, one also has to be cognizant of the helo at all times. It’s running, so there are safety issues. You always approach the helo at a 90-degree angle (perpendicular to the body). As wheel man, always place yourself on the side where the nose is.
So it was finally time to go. We all had our eye protectors, ear plugs and muffs on. (Okay, I doubt the military call them ear muffs – ear protectors maybe?) We stood in line at the door waiting to go. When we got the signal, we walked out with the pilots and crew. The slow and methodical march gave me time to think through where I was going and what I was to do.
Between the gurney and myself was a crew member. I waited for him to move out of my way, then I walked around to the left – on the nose side – and waited for the guys to loosen the clamps from the litter and lift it. I grabbed the wheel and pulled the gurney completely out of the way.
While they were loading the patient, I was walking to each end of the gurney, unlocking the legs on each end and finally wheeling the gurney back to Heroes’ Highway.
I have to say that even playing this minor role, I felt really good to do it. I can imagine that when they have more than one helo in at once, it becomes even more critical to have all the hands they can get.
I went back again the next day after my work shift for an hour, hoping for some more action, but it was a slow morning. I went home and went to bed, still satisfied that I’d helped the PAD.
I returned to the hospital at 8 p.m. A civilian was lying on a gurney waiting to be transported. People were milling around, waiting for the helo. I went to sign in. The NCO at the desk asked if I’d had the training yet. Yes, but is it okay if I just watch? Yes, but just be sure to stand back so they don’t pick you when they’re getting the team together. No problem.
When the time came for the patient to be loaded onto the helo, there were four volunteers and myself in the waiting room. The guy in charge was picking his team – it takes five to upload the helo. He counted four then pointed to me. The NCO I’d spoken to earlier told him I was new and just wanted to watch. He said something, then she turned to me and asked if I would mind. Who can say no when you’re actually needed?
She told me I could be the wheel man. That’s the team member who, once the litter has been unsecured from the gurney and lifted off of it, pulls the gurney by the wheel out from under the litter. This allows the guys carrying the litter to move forward and upload the patient. Yes! This is a job I can handle.
I asked her to tell me again exactly what I needed to do. I didn’t want to make a mistake. In addition to concerns about the patient, one also has to be cognizant of the helo at all times. It’s running, so there are safety issues. You always approach the helo at a 90-degree angle (perpendicular to the body). As wheel man, always place yourself on the side where the nose is.
So it was finally time to go. We all had our eye protectors, ear plugs and muffs on. (Okay, I doubt the military call them ear muffs – ear protectors maybe?) We stood in line at the door waiting to go. When we got the signal, we walked out with the pilots and crew. The slow and methodical march gave me time to think through where I was going and what I was to do.
Between the gurney and myself was a crew member. I waited for him to move out of my way, then I walked around to the left – on the nose side – and waited for the guys to loosen the clamps from the litter and lift it. I grabbed the wheel and pulled the gurney completely out of the way.
While they were loading the patient, I was walking to each end of the gurney, unlocking the legs on each end and finally wheeling the gurney back to Heroes’ Highway.
I have to say that even playing this minor role, I felt really good to do it. I can imagine that when they have more than one helo in at once, it becomes even more critical to have all the hands they can get.
I went back again the next day after my work shift for an hour, hoping for some more action, but it was a slow morning. I went home and went to bed, still satisfied that I’d helped the PAD.
New volunteer training
Note: This is what I've submitted to go to the Red Cross blog. I will likely edit it here later.
A week and a half ago Monday, I went to the hospital to complete a volunteer application. The sign on the wall said the PAD (Patient Administration Department) training is every Monday at 9 a.m. Darn. It was already 9:30, so I’d missed it and would have to wait a week.
This past Monday I showed up right on time. I was told at the front desk to go all the way to the back of the hospital, then follow signs to the PAD, and report in at the window. I walked through lots of people milling around and stood there. A lieutenant colonel asked if anyone were helping me. “No, but I’m a new volunteer.” “Are you here for the training?” “Yes.”
He told me the others were waiting on a helicopter and that I could go out with them and watch if I wanted. He showed me where the ear plugs, ear muffs and eye protectors were. I asked him if it were going to be scary. “Scary? No, I don’t think so.” I didn’t tell him I’d heard others say they’d had to quit this volunteer position because of the things they’d seen.
A staff sergeant whom I’ll call “M” came over and asked if I were a new volunteer, yes. Myself and three other newbies were told we could go out onto Heroes’ Highway after everyone else went out and to stand off to the side and out of the way. Heroes’ Highway is a stretch of sidewalk between the flight pad and the hospital through which all patients are taken. It’s also the place where litters, gurneys and wheelchairs are kept within easy reach.
When I came in for PAD training, I had no idea what I was getting into. I assumed this was like volunteering for Red Cross – everyone has to do the initial training before they’re allowed to volunteer anywhere. But this training was specifically for volunteers who wanted to help unload and load patients from and to the helicopters. Yikes! I’d heard about this, but I’m not sure this would be the first place I’d choose to help out. Still, I was here so I might as well give it a try.
The helo arrived. I was holding my breath, wondering what I would see and how I would react. The adrenaline was flowing. When the door opened, a civilian was escorted off and through Heroes’ Highway into the hospital. Ah, an ambulatory patient. Nothing scary after all.
We all went back inside and the training continued. The first thing M told us was that this work is not for everyone. He said we might see things like Iraqi children with amputated limbs or soldiers with their insides hanging out. “If it’s not something you think you can handle, there’s no shame in walking away and volunteering somewhere else.” I thought he was looking at me more than the other three, but maybe I was just overly sensitive since I was the only female in the group. In the end, one of the guys left because he was more interested in working with service members with PTSD.
Now that the excitement was over, M took us back to Heroes’ Highway to show us the ropes. Here’s a litter, here’s how it fits on a gurney, here’s how you walk the gurney out to the helo to get the patient (usually already on a litter) and put the litter on the gurney. Here’s how you lock and unlock the gurney legs and lock the litter on the gurney. . .
There seemed to be a lot of rules. I had two major concerns. One, that I would get flustered and not remember what to do. And two, that I wasn’t strong enough to do this, even though I would be one of four people off-loading the patient.
After the training was over, I had a conversation with M about my concern about my strength. He said I should be fine, that I’d be surprised at how light the litter is with four people handling it. I just needed to ensure I was not at the front of the four-person team.
The training was over, and I was told I was welcome to come back to volunteer any time. I ran into one of the other NCOs from the PAD on the way out and chatted with her for a minute. She was about my size and said the same thing M did – that I wouldn’t have a problem with the litter. First, I wouldn’t have to lift much weight. Second, when the adrenaline gets flowing, it’s even easier.
And third, I just needed to ensure that I didn’t volunteer to be the “strong man.” The strong man, really strong men, are the two closest to the helicopter who carry the most weight and must be able to lift the litter onto the helo or lower it to the gurney. No problem! I’d never volunteer for such a thing. The NCO also told me I was welcome to come back day or night, that this is a 24-hour operation and you never know when a helo will come in. I told her I’d be back.
A week and a half ago Monday, I went to the hospital to complete a volunteer application. The sign on the wall said the PAD (Patient Administration Department) training is every Monday at 9 a.m. Darn. It was already 9:30, so I’d missed it and would have to wait a week.
This past Monday I showed up right on time. I was told at the front desk to go all the way to the back of the hospital, then follow signs to the PAD, and report in at the window. I walked through lots of people milling around and stood there. A lieutenant colonel asked if anyone were helping me. “No, but I’m a new volunteer.” “Are you here for the training?” “Yes.”
He told me the others were waiting on a helicopter and that I could go out with them and watch if I wanted. He showed me where the ear plugs, ear muffs and eye protectors were. I asked him if it were going to be scary. “Scary? No, I don’t think so.” I didn’t tell him I’d heard others say they’d had to quit this volunteer position because of the things they’d seen.
A staff sergeant whom I’ll call “M” came over and asked if I were a new volunteer, yes. Myself and three other newbies were told we could go out onto Heroes’ Highway after everyone else went out and to stand off to the side and out of the way. Heroes’ Highway is a stretch of sidewalk between the flight pad and the hospital through which all patients are taken. It’s also the place where litters, gurneys and wheelchairs are kept within easy reach.
When I came in for PAD training, I had no idea what I was getting into. I assumed this was like volunteering for Red Cross – everyone has to do the initial training before they’re allowed to volunteer anywhere. But this training was specifically for volunteers who wanted to help unload and load patients from and to the helicopters. Yikes! I’d heard about this, but I’m not sure this would be the first place I’d choose to help out. Still, I was here so I might as well give it a try.
The helo arrived. I was holding my breath, wondering what I would see and how I would react. The adrenaline was flowing. When the door opened, a civilian was escorted off and through Heroes’ Highway into the hospital. Ah, an ambulatory patient. Nothing scary after all.
We all went back inside and the training continued. The first thing M told us was that this work is not for everyone. He said we might see things like Iraqi children with amputated limbs or soldiers with their insides hanging out. “If it’s not something you think you can handle, there’s no shame in walking away and volunteering somewhere else.” I thought he was looking at me more than the other three, but maybe I was just overly sensitive since I was the only female in the group. In the end, one of the guys left because he was more interested in working with service members with PTSD.
Now that the excitement was over, M took us back to Heroes’ Highway to show us the ropes. Here’s a litter, here’s how it fits on a gurney, here’s how you walk the gurney out to the helo to get the patient (usually already on a litter) and put the litter on the gurney. Here’s how you lock and unlock the gurney legs and lock the litter on the gurney. . .
There seemed to be a lot of rules. I had two major concerns. One, that I would get flustered and not remember what to do. And two, that I wasn’t strong enough to do this, even though I would be one of four people off-loading the patient.
After the training was over, I had a conversation with M about my concern about my strength. He said I should be fine, that I’d be surprised at how light the litter is with four people handling it. I just needed to ensure I was not at the front of the four-person team.
The training was over, and I was told I was welcome to come back to volunteer any time. I ran into one of the other NCOs from the PAD on the way out and chatted with her for a minute. She was about my size and said the same thing M did – that I wouldn’t have a problem with the litter. First, I wouldn’t have to lift much weight. Second, when the adrenaline gets flowing, it’s even easier.
And third, I just needed to ensure that I didn’t volunteer to be the “strong man.” The strong man, really strong men, are the two closest to the helicopter who carry the most weight and must be able to lift the litter onto the helo or lower it to the gurney. No problem! I’d never volunteer for such a thing. The NCO also told me I was welcome to come back day or night, that this is a 24-hour operation and you never know when a helo will come in. I told her I’d be back.
Sorry so out of touch!
Okay, sorry I've been so out of touch. I didn't realize it's been so long since I've posted anything.
Since I last wrote, I've started volunteering at the hospital. I'm helping out in the PAD -- Patient Administration Department -- to load and unload patients from helicopters. More to come on that soon, I promise.
Since I last wrote, I've started volunteering at the hospital. I'm helping out in the PAD -- Patient Administration Department -- to load and unload patients from helicopters. More to come on that soon, I promise.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
luxury salon
I just stopped by the beauty salon assuming I'd have to make an appointment. But it's all first come, first served.
First I had a haircut for $7 by a beautician from Fiji. Hmmmm, now there's a place to consider going on vacation when I finish here.
Then I had my eyebrows plucked for $4 by a lady from somewhere else. She was so busy talking to one of the males that I didn't really get to ask her anything.
Next time I'm getting a pedicure, which runs $11.
Yeah, continue to feel sorry for me!
First I had a haircut for $7 by a beautician from Fiji. Hmmmm, now there's a place to consider going on vacation when I finish here.
Then I had my eyebrows plucked for $4 by a lady from somewhere else. She was so busy talking to one of the males that I didn't really get to ask her anything.
Next time I'm getting a pedicure, which runs $11.
Yeah, continue to feel sorry for me!
Green chile powder: A taste of home
Here it is Saturday morning. . . and I'm sitting in the office waiting for my replacement so I can go to breakfast and get on with my "evening."
After breakfast, I'm going to go over to the hospital to see about volunteering. I've had the initial tour, but I now need to fill out the volunteer application and see what they need during the times I'm available.
The team we replaced flew to Kuwait yesterday morning, so we're on our own now. I'm working from 11 p.m. until 8 a.m. I'm going to suggest to our team leader that I work from 9 p.m. to 6 a.m. We get a lot of emergency messages between 7 p.m. - 3 a.m., and I think it'd be better if I overlapped more with the previous person.
Ah, my replacement just arrived. I'll wait for the team leader to talk to him about shifts, then I'm outta here.
SUNDAY MORNING, 4:45 a.m.
Okay, I didn't make it to the hospital yesterday. I forgot that I had to go to an MWR meeting. MWR is morale, welfare & recreation -- yes, the very same organization for which I worked in Bosnia. None of the same people though.
Then I went back to my room to get more organized, then went to sleep. I'm not quite feeling completely caught up yet, so some nights I'm sleeping 9-11 hours. That number will lessen soon, I'm sure.
Now I'm going to complain about the food a bit. You wouldn't believe what they serve us here. Life is tough.
If I don't get to the gym soon, I'm going to weigh 200 pounds by the time I leave.
For lunch and dinner, we always have several entrees and veggies to choose from, a sandwich bar, a burger/hot dog bar, salad/fruit bar, a pastry bar and several choices of ice cream. At morning breakfast, there's regular breakfast foods and a made-to-order omelette option plus all that lunch and dinner meals have except for dinner entrees. At midnight chow, we get to choose between having a dinner meal or breakfast. . . and everything's there except for the omelette bar.
All I can say is that the desserts and pastries are amazing, and everything else is at least good. <> And did I mention that I've met a young Air Force guy from New Mexico (Albuquerque) who has given me some of his stash of red chile powder and green chile powder? I'm FROM NM and I've never seen green chile powder, but I'm thrilled to have it. Can't wait to try it -- he says it's great on roasted chicken. Think I'll stop by the office and get it before I head to lunch.
So today's Sunday, my "short" day where I only work six hours. Got off at 6 a.m. and went to breakfast, went back to the room for a bit, am at the rec center doing email (it was here or the office, and I'm ticked at the boss right now), and next I'll go cash a check and see if I can get a hair appt. Yes, we have a salon on post! I'm still trying to get rid of that last bad haircut. Almost there!
Okay, I'm outta here. More soon.
After breakfast, I'm going to go over to the hospital to see about volunteering. I've had the initial tour, but I now need to fill out the volunteer application and see what they need during the times I'm available.
The team we replaced flew to Kuwait yesterday morning, so we're on our own now. I'm working from 11 p.m. until 8 a.m. I'm going to suggest to our team leader that I work from 9 p.m. to 6 a.m. We get a lot of emergency messages between 7 p.m. - 3 a.m., and I think it'd be better if I overlapped more with the previous person.
Ah, my replacement just arrived. I'll wait for the team leader to talk to him about shifts, then I'm outta here.
SUNDAY MORNING, 4:45 a.m.
Okay, I didn't make it to the hospital yesterday. I forgot that I had to go to an MWR meeting. MWR is morale, welfare & recreation -- yes, the very same organization for which I worked in Bosnia. None of the same people though.
Then I went back to my room to get more organized, then went to sleep. I'm not quite feeling completely caught up yet, so some nights I'm sleeping 9-11 hours. That number will lessen soon, I'm sure.
Now I'm going to complain about the food a bit. You wouldn't believe what they serve us here. Life is tough.
If I don't get to the gym soon, I'm going to weigh 200 pounds by the time I leave.
For lunch and dinner, we always have several entrees and veggies to choose from, a sandwich bar, a burger/hot dog bar, salad/fruit bar, a pastry bar and several choices of ice cream. At morning breakfast, there's regular breakfast foods and a made-to-order omelette option plus all that lunch and dinner meals have except for dinner entrees. At midnight chow, we get to choose between having a dinner meal or breakfast. . . and everything's there except for the omelette bar.
All I can say is that the desserts and pastries are amazing, and everything else is at least good. <
So today's Sunday, my "short" day where I only work six hours. Got off at 6 a.m. and went to breakfast, went back to the room for a bit, am at the rec center doing email (it was here or the office, and I'm ticked at the boss right now), and next I'll go cash a check and see if I can get a hair appt. Yes, we have a salon on post! I'm still trying to get rid of that last bad haircut. Almost there!
Okay, I'm outta here. More soon.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Greetings from Iraq!
I sent an email to a bunch of friends and family talking about the beginning of life here in the war zone. From that email, I've had a number of questions. . .
1. Why didn't I drink BEER, or Irish whiskey, or at least an Irish coffee while in Ireland?
Easy. Not allowed. Once we checked in Friday morning to fly, no one was allowed to drink alcohol. If someone had come to check-in already drunk, they would not have been allowed to fly.
So why no alcohol? First, the trip here is exhausting. Imagine how a hangover would exacerbate that. When we hit the ground (and when soldiers do), we have to be able to settle in pretty quickly. . . and we're not talking about settling into the Hilton for a big vacation. We're talking about lots of heat and sand, less than ideal living conditions, no sleep, and lots to do. Second, the soldiers on the flight were carrying weapons. And even though they weren't loaded and other precautions were taken, alcohol and weapons are never a good mix. So. . . I settled for a good coffee, something I didn't get much of at Benning.
2. Why are we not allowed to wear open-toe shoes? First, there are a lot of rocks here. You're more prone to accidents or hurting your feet when you're walking in open-toe shoes. Second, at Benning there are lots of fire ants. I'm told that there are other critters here -- scorpions, spiders, and who knows what else. And third, if there is incoming, lots of open-toe shoes are not easy to run in.
3. Why did I choose to work the night shift (around midnight to 8-9 a.m.)? Well. . . this was the last shift I had in Kuwait five years ago, and I liked it. Not so many people are in and around the office while I'm trying to do cases (to handle emergency communications), there's more privacy, I don't have to spend too much time with co-workers (not that I don't like them, but we will see each other a fair amount anyway), etc.
The military issued ARC a vehicle, so the other female and I have worked out a system for picking each other up or taking each other home when shifts start or end at night. It's not necessarily wise for a lone female to be walking around alone at night. There are buses, but it's just better/easier for us to use the vehicle.
Last night I slept only 3 hours, then came back to the office to go to the hospital as I may be volunteering there. A woman on the current team took D (my female team mate) and I over to show us the ropes. I then went back to my room to try to sleep for 3 more hours before my shift began, but I'd been up too long and couldn't get back to sleep. So now it's 8:31 a.m., and I'm exhausted. I'm going home and going to bed.
Oh, and p.s. About the brand new tennis shoes I accidentally left in the latrine in Kuwait: Fellow RC'ers checked around for them, but they were not in lost & found. No surprise there. However, I went to the PX here and found a pair of the same brand (Asics) for just over half of what I paid in Bethesda for a pair. When I went to the cash register, they were half off so I paid about $35! I can't tell if they're the same exact model, but I think they'll be fine.
1. Why didn't I drink BEER, or Irish whiskey, or at least an Irish coffee while in Ireland?
Easy. Not allowed. Once we checked in Friday morning to fly, no one was allowed to drink alcohol. If someone had come to check-in already drunk, they would not have been allowed to fly.
So why no alcohol? First, the trip here is exhausting. Imagine how a hangover would exacerbate that. When we hit the ground (and when soldiers do), we have to be able to settle in pretty quickly. . . and we're not talking about settling into the Hilton for a big vacation. We're talking about lots of heat and sand, less than ideal living conditions, no sleep, and lots to do. Second, the soldiers on the flight were carrying weapons. And even though they weren't loaded and other precautions were taken, alcohol and weapons are never a good mix. So. . . I settled for a good coffee, something I didn't get much of at Benning.
2. Why are we not allowed to wear open-toe shoes? First, there are a lot of rocks here. You're more prone to accidents or hurting your feet when you're walking in open-toe shoes. Second, at Benning there are lots of fire ants. I'm told that there are other critters here -- scorpions, spiders, and who knows what else. And third, if there is incoming, lots of open-toe shoes are not easy to run in.
3. Why did I choose to work the night shift (around midnight to 8-9 a.m.)? Well. . . this was the last shift I had in Kuwait five years ago, and I liked it. Not so many people are in and around the office while I'm trying to do cases (to handle emergency communications), there's more privacy, I don't have to spend too much time with co-workers (not that I don't like them, but we will see each other a fair amount anyway), etc.
The military issued ARC a vehicle, so the other female and I have worked out a system for picking each other up or taking each other home when shifts start or end at night. It's not necessarily wise for a lone female to be walking around alone at night. There are buses, but it's just better/easier for us to use the vehicle.
Last night I slept only 3 hours, then came back to the office to go to the hospital as I may be volunteering there. A woman on the current team took D (my female team mate) and I over to show us the ropes. I then went back to my room to try to sleep for 3 more hours before my shift began, but I'd been up too long and couldn't get back to sleep. So now it's 8:31 a.m., and I'm exhausted. I'm going home and going to bed.
Oh, and p.s. About the brand new tennis shoes I accidentally left in the latrine in Kuwait: Fellow RC'ers checked around for them, but they were not in lost & found. No surprise there. However, I went to the PX here and found a pair of the same brand (Asics) for just over half of what I paid in Bethesda for a pair. When I went to the cash register, they were half off so I paid about $35! I can't tell if they're the same exact model, but I think they'll be fine.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Top of the morning to you!
I had to take this opportunity to write a quick note. We've got a quick layover in Ireland, and there's free Internet access here.
I'm sitting here drinking a tall latte and fighting exhaustion. The other person in the picture is Mary, a team leader for one of the other Iraq teams.
I didn't get a lick of sleep. . . okay, with language like that, you can tell I spent too much time in Georgia.
We get back on the plane in a bit and head to Kuwait. Woo hoo. It's about 55-60 degrees here, and the temp in KU will be double. Lucky us!
Friday, July 4, 2008
Just waiting on a plane
Hi friends.
I'm sitting in Freedom Hall at Fort Benning, GA, waiting for the flight to the Middle East. A couple of people have asked where we fly to, how long it takes, etc.
Because we're going on a military charter flight, we're not supposed to talk about it because of "operational security" or OPSEC. We don't really even know exactly when we leave ("sometime later today or tonight") or where we'll stop along the way (could be any one of a number of locations between here and Kuwait). We'll eventually land in Kuwait, then we'll take a military flight to our different destinations (Red Crossers will be in three locations in Iraq and one in Afghanistan - the Kuwait team will stay there, of course).
Our group just got called over to be told that we're not government employees (duh, as if we don't know that) and therefore we do not get the privileges afforded us by the equivalent rating (such as GS-12) that's on our orders. Funny, but everywhere we go on military orders, we get the treatment of the equivalent rank. What this means to us today is that we will be at the back of the plane with the contractors. Yippee.
As for my experiences at Fort Benning. . . It's been hot and humid. I'm with 16 others who are on five different teams (do you see me in the photo?). Several days have been long, hot (outside), cold (inside in the a/c), and tiring. And did I mention LONG?
We also had a free afternoon/evening, during which time we went into town or over to the PX to shop, some people went swimming, and I lucked into a massage at the PX. Woo Hoo!!! There's a little day spa there, and the lady doing the massage was truly wonderful. Come to think of it, I could use another one about now.
Oh, and I forgot to mention that the place that issues our uniforms didn't have my size so I had to take a "small short" in the uniform top rather than "small regular," which fits me perfectly. After this group, the Army is going to start issuing the newer Army uniforms to everyone (ours are DCUs - desert cammies).
I was able to buy two tops at a store in town, which helps. One of them was actually altered to fit Army Ranger standards (pockets on sleeves instead of by the front hipos). The guy paid to have the work done then never picked it up. Cool. Now it's mine! (Because the Army's phasing out this uniform, few places carry them and the ones that do have few sizes, so I lucked out that the guy had these in the back.)
Of the 17 people in the ARC group, about 8 are new and spent three weeks in training at HQ in DC. The rest of us joined them for a few days of briefings, then we came to Fort Benning together. It's been interesting to watch the friendships and other relationships developing, and tempers flaring.
There are four of us on my team (of which I'm not the leader), two males and two females. I have to say that I think the other female and I are the steadier ones in this group.
So here I go on the big adventure. . . It was 120 degrees in Balad yesterday. My team's going to be "interesting." We're all tired. And the food sucks. The food will get better once we're there and not eating the box lunches we'll have for the next couple of days. ** They just served us a hot meal brought over from the chow hall, and it was pretty good.
Okay, friends. That's all for now. Stay tuned.
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