Planes, Tractors & Automobiles

Getting back to Baghdad from Qatar was hell. It was like a Fellini movie filmed in black and white where you are forcibly kept awake by a transvestite dwarf and simultaneously taunted by the Sad Clown of Life.

I travelled with my co-worker Jan, an army lieutenant colonel. We left Camp As Sayliyah, Qatar at 2000 on 16 Aug and were driven in an SUV to Al Udeid Air Base. After the usual confusion at the check in counter on whether 1) we were correctly space blocked on the flight and 2) if there was an actual flight, we boarded a C-17 around 2300. Inside was a monstrous tractor whose wheels were made from steel and were prickled with large teeth. It looked like something out of the movie, “The Road Warrior.” About fifty of us filed aboard the plane, wearing our body armor and lugging our packs and bags. We sat in the installed jump seats along the side of the fuselage. Never quite sure of the plane’s actual itinerary, we were disappointed to hear that Baghdad would be the third stop on the flight. We would fly first to the northern Iraqi city of Tallil, then Balad in the middle of the country, and finally Baghdad.

I managed to doze a bit on the first segment. After landing at Tallil at around 0200 on 17 Aug, we were herded off the plane while the monstrous tractor slowly was unloaded and new vehicles were loaded on board. We were there about two hours. In the transient passenger tent, I watched most of “The Terminator” which was on Armed Forces Network (AFN) Europe television. The most striking thing about Tallil was the weather: it was actually cool. It was the first time I had experienced cool weather outside in, oh, about a thousand years. While outside, I heard then saw the metal wheeled tractor moving slowly across the tarmac in the darkness to a storage area adjacent to the parking apron. It was moving about one mile an hour and each spoke of the metal wheels made a loud clanging sound as it clamored across the concrete. It reminded me some kind of lumbering, mechanical leviathan.

We re-boarded around 0400 and took off this time with a HUMVEE and a large trailer loaded onboard. We landed in Balad sometime before 0600 to blinding daylight, the nocturnal portion of our journey now ended. Much to our surprise, we were told by KBR ground representatives that this was the final stop of the flight. Everyone looked at each other with the now familiar look of frustration associated with flying on military air (MILAIR). No, we all said, we were supposed to fly on to Baghdad. Really? The KBR guy was flummoxed. “The manifest says you’re all supposed to get off here.” It’s been my experience that KBR and MILAIR representatives stubbornly hold to the idea that their paperwork is Never Wrong. Grumbling, we were herded off the plane and boarded buses which then took us to yet another passenger terminal. This one was very large and even featured wireless Internet, a veritable paradise – at least for those of us with laptops. The KBR folks actually were very accommodating. “We’ll figure this out,” they said. And they did. Around 0700 we re-boarded and made the final leg to Baghdad.

When we landed around 0830, I was hit with that familiar smell of burning garbage accompanied by searing heat. Ah, home. Jan and I still had to get to the International Zone. Before leaving Qatar, I had made arrangements with my office for them to book “Space A” seats on a helicopter flight. Unfortunately, that flight didn’t leave until nearly 1800. We exited the passenger terminal and grabbed the bus to Stryker Stables. We slept for about two or so hours, grabbed lunch, and then hung out in the check-in area which had TVs tuned to AFN-Sports showing the Olympics. Eventually, we made our way back to Liberty Helicopter Pad, where our flight would originate from. This required taking a bus from Stryker Stables to the main bus stop at Camp Victory and then catching another bus to Liberty. It was about a thirty minute journey.

We got to Liberty an hour before our flight. Fortunately, our reservations were in the system and we waited in an air conditioned tent for the helicopters to arrive. By this time, Jan and I were walking zombies but at least we weren’t in front of a computer screen making PowerPoint slides.

The flight back to the International Zone was great; the slanted late afternoon sun illuminated numerous Iraqi neighborhoods speeding below each showing signs of refreshing normalcy. After landing, we made the long walk to our trailers. Finally, we were home after a journey of Homeric proportions; it took all of twenty-two hours.