I was awoken to the sound of a Navy Captain, a very senior officer equivalent to an Army Colonel, saying my name. This is not the way one wants to wake up. Given my penchant of sleeping with a watch cap covering my eyes, a habit I developed during my stay in the open bay barracks at Fort Jackson in order to get to sleep early, I had slept until nearly 1130. Having such a senior officer come find me was both disturbing and shocking; I bolted out of my sleeping bag and groggily went through introductions. It turns out he worked in the office I was assigned to and was the only one around that morning to come collect me (the Good Samaritan Navy Commander from the previous night had left a message that I was in the transient tents).
I quickly dressed and accompanied him to the DFAC for lunch. In the daylight, the Palace looked just as impressive only now there was a multitude of people, some in uniform – some in civilian clothes, walking to and fro. Overhead, US Army Blackhawk helicopters flew into and out of nearby Landing Zone (LZ) Washington, located on the other side of the Palace compound. Gators, the same type of armored golf cart I had rode in the previous night, rode past us. Heavily armed, up-armored HUMVEEs, which either had arrived or were preparing to leave on convoys, also were visible parked in recesses along the road and near the palace.
During lunch at the DFAC, the captain told me there were really only three types of days: Mondays through Thursdays and Saturdays were the same; the work day began at 0730 and ended at 2100 with a multi-hour break for lunch and individual physical training (PT). On Fridays, the usual morning briefings took place at 0900 so we could come in late. On Sundays, there was no update briefing and we didn’t start work until 1300. The “Groundhog Day” syndrome took only one week to come into effect, he told me. Cool.
After lunch, we walked the entire lengthwise part of the Palace, starting at the south end, to our office space located in the North Ballroom area of the building. Along the way, we passed the central portion of the building where a 24 hour Green Beens Coffee shop (the most important service in the building) and an Internet Cafe resided in an ornate lobby or ballroom. Along the same hallway was the barber shop and a diminutive version of the DFAC, where one could get sandwiches and light fare. Everywhere, tacky chandeliers hung from the ceilings and inlaid marble floors and ceilings stretched before us. Saddam’s decoration tastes ran squarely in the gaudy category. Perhaps it looked better before the coalition took over. Probably not, I decided.
The building, for now, is the US Embassy and is run by the Department of State. However, the military has many people here running Multinational Force Iraq. A new embassy building is in the works down the street but, as of the time of my arrival, no concrete plans exist for its opening.
We arrived finally at the opposite end of the palace – the North Ballroom. Crossing through another check point we entered the ballroom proper. The floor is white marble with colossal green columns running the length of either side of the room. Each green marble column features a gold colored statue, adorned in a niche, presumably representing some achievement of the Iraqi state under Saddam. The statues have a vaguely socialist realism look to them and could have been designed by some Soviet-era artist: men and women in heroic agricultural and revolutionary poses. The ceiling is equally ornate: a white roof crossed with diagonal beams inlaid with turquoise and gold motifs. Later, someone pointed out to me that the flowery designs in the beams were actually the Arabic script for “SH” Saddam’s initials.
The “offices” here were constructed by building wooden office pens on either side of a long central hallway. Opening a wooden office door leads, usually, into a central office bull pen with smaller adjoining smaller offices for more senior officers. The result is a desk with a view of either end of the ballroom and those gaudy golden statues looking down on you. No one is quite sure what sorts of functions were held here. Likely, grand Iraqi state functions. Ironic now that the US military and Department of State use it for more mundane purposes.
Entering here was not unlike Dorothy’s entrance into the grand chamber of Oz; the color schemes are almost the same although, of course, there was no giant floating head dominating the room. Some people call the Green Zone “The Emerald City,” even though its official moniker is the International Zone, or IZ. Aside from the marble columns, nothing here is green; everything is expressed in shades of brown. Even the palm trees look predominantly brown due to the fine sand dust that permeates everything here.
I quickly dressed and accompanied him to the DFAC for lunch. In the daylight, the Palace looked just as impressive only now there was a multitude of people, some in uniform – some in civilian clothes, walking to and fro. Overhead, US Army Blackhawk helicopters flew into and out of nearby Landing Zone (LZ) Washington, located on the other side of the Palace compound. Gators, the same type of armored golf cart I had rode in the previous night, rode past us. Heavily armed, up-armored HUMVEEs, which either had arrived or were preparing to leave on convoys, also were visible parked in recesses along the road and near the palace.
During lunch at the DFAC, the captain told me there were really only three types of days: Mondays through Thursdays and Saturdays were the same; the work day began at 0730 and ended at 2100 with a multi-hour break for lunch and individual physical training (PT). On Fridays, the usual morning briefings took place at 0900 so we could come in late. On Sundays, there was no update briefing and we didn’t start work until 1300. The “Groundhog Day” syndrome took only one week to come into effect, he told me. Cool.
After lunch, we walked the entire lengthwise part of the Palace, starting at the south end, to our office space located in the North Ballroom area of the building. Along the way, we passed the central portion of the building where a 24 hour Green Beens Coffee shop (the most important service in the building) and an Internet Cafe resided in an ornate lobby or ballroom. Along the same hallway was the barber shop and a diminutive version of the DFAC, where one could get sandwiches and light fare. Everywhere, tacky chandeliers hung from the ceilings and inlaid marble floors and ceilings stretched before us. Saddam’s decoration tastes ran squarely in the gaudy category. Perhaps it looked better before the coalition took over. Probably not, I decided.
The building, for now, is the US Embassy and is run by the Department of State. However, the military has many people here running Multinational Force Iraq. A new embassy building is in the works down the street but, as of the time of my arrival, no concrete plans exist for its opening.
We arrived finally at the opposite end of the palace – the North Ballroom. Crossing through another check point we entered the ballroom proper. The floor is white marble with colossal green columns running the length of either side of the room. Each green marble column features a gold colored statue, adorned in a niche, presumably representing some achievement of the Iraqi state under Saddam. The statues have a vaguely socialist realism look to them and could have been designed by some Soviet-era artist: men and women in heroic agricultural and revolutionary poses. The ceiling is equally ornate: a white roof crossed with diagonal beams inlaid with turquoise and gold motifs. Later, someone pointed out to me that the flowery designs in the beams were actually the Arabic script for “SH” Saddam’s initials.
The “offices” here were constructed by building wooden office pens on either side of a long central hallway. Opening a wooden office door leads, usually, into a central office bull pen with smaller adjoining smaller offices for more senior officers. The result is a desk with a view of either end of the ballroom and those gaudy golden statues looking down on you. No one is quite sure what sorts of functions were held here. Likely, grand Iraqi state functions. Ironic now that the US military and Department of State use it for more mundane purposes.
Entering here was not unlike Dorothy’s entrance into the grand chamber of Oz; the color schemes are almost the same although, of course, there was no giant floating head dominating the room. Some people call the Green Zone “The Emerald City,” even though its official moniker is the International Zone, or IZ. Aside from the marble columns, nothing here is green; everything is expressed in shades of brown. Even the palm trees look predominantly brown due to the fine sand dust that permeates everything here.
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