Back to the IZ

Of course, arriving at Baghdad International Airport (BIAP) doesn't mean arriving at the International Zone (IZ) which lies some 17 kilometers east. Getting to the IZ usually means either a ground convoy, such as the Rhino, or a short helicopter ride. Getting manifested for either is the real trick. I was traveling with an Army lieutenant colonel named Pete, who also is a co-worker of mine from an adjacent office in the Embassy. He is quite affable but, at times, can produce the sort of inverse stress that only the perpetually cheery can induce.

We arrived in the full heat of early-morning. While away on leave, the typical late May high temperature had risen to 106 F. Similar to my first arrival back in November, the first thing that hit me was that smell. It was all the more pungent in the heat. To make matters a little more chaotic, the waiting area in front of the passenger terminals, which to date consisted of bare earth liberally strewn with small rocks, was fenced off for construction. Future passengers will be able to recline on concrete slabs while waiting for news of their flights.

After having our ID cards electronically swiped, which memorialized our arrival back in Iraq, Pete and I lugged our gear and bags to a nearby Navy Liaison Trailer. I discovered this little air conditioned piece of heaven when I left Baghdad for Qatar last March. It’s a place where Navy personnel can wait for flights and keep their gear (semi) secure. Like everything here, it is not well-marked or advertised. Being an army officer, Pete was unaware of it and when I led him there he was that much more cheery.

Leaving our bags and body armor, we walked to the nearby Dining Facility (DFAC) to catch the last of breakfast. It was good to sit down and eat a hot meal after the previously night’s nocturnal traveling. Next, we walked across the street and visited the all powerful Green Beans trailer for coffee. While we finished our coffee, the barber shop opened and we both got hair cuts. Between our breakfast, coffee, and hair cut, we felt like new men.

Back at the terminal, I called to see about getting us manifested on either a Rhino convoy or a space available helicopter flight. The Rhinos were all booked until after mid-night but we were able to get a space on helicopter flight leaving in the early evening. That gave us a few precious hours to get some rest. We took a bus from the passenger terminal to the Stryker Stables, a transient camp about ten minutes away. We reserved spaces in a tent and promptly fell asleep.

We awoke for lunch at the Stryker DFAC and then returned to the tent for more rest. Despite having several small air conditioners running, the interior of the tent was well over 90 F. No one complained though; everyone realizes that the amenities here are the best in Iraq.

In the late afternoon, we took the bus back to the terminal and began waiting for our helicopter flight. Upon arriving we were informed that our original flight had been cancelled. We next would need to check in at 2030. We once again dumped our gear and bags in the Navy trailer and went to the DFAC for dinner. We returned to the terminal and began the Long Wait.

At 2030 we were told to gear up and walk to the flight line where two helicopters awaited, engines running. As we boarded the first, we noticed the second helicopter stopped its engines. As we strapped in, our engines also stopped. A crewman told us over the din of the dying engine that the second helicopter was “down,” meaning it had some kind of engine problem. We un-strapped ourselves from the seats and walked back to the terminal.

To make a long story short, we walked out to the flight line two more times and were turned away. Either the helicopters in question were full or were not flying to the IZ. The third time was the charm. By this time, it was well after 2200. Our helicopter took off and made the short flight to the IZ. Despite the long wait, it was well worth it. We arrived well before the midnight Rhino would. I walked from the landing zone and caught site of the imposing girth of the Republican Palace. Back … home. Yeah, that’s a weird thought.

I passed through the Embassy and walked to my trailer where I found my air force roommate, Bill, still awake. I was thankful as trying to unpack in the dark would have been problematic and noisy. Despite the jet lag, I went to sleep right away.