Sandy Situations- My Experience
Phew it’s hot… The unrelenting sun… No shade in sight… My sweat pouring off of me like a fountain… Missions; day and night. Those darn missions. Wait a sec… it’s all coming back to me now…
It was back in the summer of 2005 during my first deployment to Iraq. We were on a convoy security mission with the task of escorting civilian truck drivers and their supplies safely to the Forward Operating Base (FOB) Speicher. This mission was like any other routine mission as we were constantly on the road from one FOB to another; keeping the logistical chains alive and making sure different bases received their needed supplies like , food, water, medicine, fuel, and of course, the more important things like letters and care packages from back home. Above all else, a functional army must have good morale.
In order to accomplish our mission and safely return to base, we heavily relied upon the capabilities of our up armored M1119 Hummers, or “gun trucks”, as they were called. These hummers were pretty much our desert tan painted mobile homes. The inside was uncomfortably compact due to all the extra radio equipment, signal jammers, and stacks of .50 cal ammunition boxes. As in most vehicles, there were four small seats, two in front and two in the back; but in the center a small swing seat hung down from under the gunner’s turret. The gunner’s swing was much the same as what can be found on a swing set at a children’s play ground. Even though we had four regular seats and one gunner’s seat, gun truck crews typically consisted of a three soldier crew; a driver, gunner, and truck commander. With the two back seats, one was generally used for an extra passenger and the other was used to house a nice drink cooler. Cold drinks were a must. To try and add a bit of comfort, we had what some may consider as air conditioning when it worked, but I think the AC was more like a hair dryer. Each hummer had a double reinforced steel front bumper and, on top was a large crank turret from which was mounted a heafty M2 .50 cal machine gun. Aside from the main gun, we all carried our rifles for added protection. We were capable of producing an awful amount of firepower if needed.
Most of the time, we stayed out on the road, always gone on missions. It was a rare occurrence to have downtime and lazily lounge around the company area for more than a day or two unless struck by some random hajji illness, such as explosive diarrhea. Soldiers tended to refer to everything relating to Iraq, and the Arab world as a whole, as being hajji. The latrines, we called hajji-bobs; in the mornings or evenings, we took hajji showers; we ate hajji pizza, drank hajji soft drinks, we were shot at by hajji, mortared by hajji, and blown up by hajji IEDs. This was a hajji world, but we were not hajji and clearly did not belong here.
This mission, in particular, was different from so many of the other missions I’ve taken part in, because it was my very first mission out on the road in a combat zone, so I had no idea of what to expect. Many of the soldiers had already been on the open Iraqi roads outside of base – outside the wire – so they already knew what to expect. To the other soldiers, this mission had become a redundant routine at that point. I was late joining up with the company, because I was tasked with the duty of clearing up company equipment issues back in Kuwait. Five other soldiers and I arrived in Iraq about two months after the main body of the company. Needless to say, my new experience opened my eyes to a whole new world; a completely different culture than what I was used to in the United States. This was, in fact, my first time outside of the U.S. in my life. It is difficult for a nineteen year old boy to make such drastic adjustments, and then be expected to perform to the “Army Standard.” I will admit that it was quite a struggle at times, and it took me a long while to ever become readjusted to civilian life once I returned home.
During my first mission, I saw a little bloodshed amongst some of the Iraqis that we passed by, but nothing major. Along the route, our convoy found a good location to stop and refuel our hummers. One thing about hummers is that their fuel tanks do not last long at all, so we always had four extra full fuel cans strapped to the back of the vehicle, which we can use to prevent our having to stop at random bases. We basically refuel in the center of the road and then keep going. I am glad that my first mission happened to be one of those peaceful trips around Iraq in which nothing really happened. I was able to learn how missions really worked in a combat zone, without having to figure things out in a life and death situation. Many of my mission experiences were not so fortunate. In a combat zone, you quickly learn to enjoy the little things such as those peaceful missions, the opportunity to observe a donkey lazily pulling a crop laden cart in center of the road, or a herd of camels aimlessly bumbling about in the barren desert. There were just too many missions that were filled with the explosions of IED’s, taking random gunfire from snipers, severe wounds and bleeding, and the air conditioning in our truck going completely out.
Throughout my military career, I served on a total of two deployments. My first deployment in 2005 was close to a year and a half long, while my second deployment in 2008 was right at a year in length. The interesting thing about my two deployment experiences is that both of my deployments were completely different from each other, to the point of almost seeming like I served in two independent desert wars. Maybe the reason for this was that I served my tours during different times and places. I guess such change is proof that the conditions governing the rules of engagement are fluid, and war constantly evolves as it progresses. The overall feel of being thrown into the middle of a combat zone in the Middle East was the same, however. I just find it neat to observe this phenomena first hand.
The times I served in Iraq have proven to be one of the greatest adventures of my life. I have returned to the United States with a new appreciation of the plethora of available opportunities that I once took for granted, such as obtaining a good education at Virginia Tech, and making solid career choices. In many countries, like Iraq, the normal people can never hope to have such opportunities. My fallen comrades, who made the ultimate sacrifice upon the fields of battle, can never hope to return home to live out the opportunities that I have been given the opportunity to pursue. Every single day I carry around this solemn reality as a burden, an eternal shackle of sorts. With such reflection upon my conscience, my entire outlook on life has changed, and I now have a greater understanding and stronger resolve to seize the many opportunities that come my way, so that I may live the dreams that so many cannot.
Phew it’s hot… The unrelenting sun… No shade in sight… My sweat pouring off of me like a fountain… Missions; day and night. Those darn missions. Wait a sec… it’s all coming back to me now…
It was back in the summer of 2005 during my first deployment to Iraq. We were on a convoy security mission with the task of escorting civilian truck drivers and their supplies safely to the Forward Operating Base (FOB) Speicher. This mission was like any other routine mission as we were constantly on the road from one FOB to another; keeping the logistical chains alive and making sure different bases received their needed supplies like , food, water, medicine, fuel, and of course, the more important things like letters and care packages from back home. Above all else, a functional army must have good morale.
In order to accomplish our mission and safely return to base, we heavily relied upon the capabilities of our up armored M1119 Hummers, or “gun trucks”, as they were called. These hummers were pretty much our desert tan painted mobile homes. The inside was uncomfortably compact due to all the extra radio equipment, signal jammers, and stacks of .50 cal ammunition boxes. As in most vehicles, there were four small seats, two in front and two in the back; but in the center a small swing seat hung down from under the gunner’s turret. The gunner’s swing was much the same as what can be found on a swing set at a children’s play ground. Even though we had four regular seats and one gunner’s seat, gun truck crews typically consisted of a three soldier crew; a driver, gunner, and truck commander. With the two back seats, one was generally used for an extra passenger and the other was used to house a nice drink cooler. Cold drinks were a must. To try and add a bit of comfort, we had what some may consider as air conditioning when it worked, but I think the AC was more like a hair dryer. Each hummer had a double reinforced steel front bumper and, on top was a large crank turret from which was mounted a heafty M2 .50 cal machine gun. Aside from the main gun, we all carried our rifles for added protection. We were capable of producing an awful amount of firepower if needed.
Most of the time, we stayed out on the road, always gone on missions. It was a rare occurrence to have downtime and lazily lounge around the company area for more than a day or two unless struck by some random hajji illness, such as explosive diarrhea. Soldiers tended to refer to everything relating to Iraq, and the Arab world as a whole, as being hajji. The latrines, we called hajji-bobs; in the mornings or evenings, we took hajji showers; we ate hajji pizza, drank hajji soft drinks, we were shot at by hajji, mortared by hajji, and blown up by hajji IEDs. This was a hajji world, but we were not hajji and clearly did not belong here.
This mission, in particular, was different from so many of the other missions I’ve taken part in, because it was my very first mission out on the road in a combat zone, so I had no idea of what to expect. Many of the soldiers had already been on the open Iraqi roads outside of base – outside the wire – so they already knew what to expect. To the other soldiers, this mission had become a redundant routine at that point. I was late joining up with the company, because I was tasked with the duty of clearing up company equipment issues back in Kuwait. Five other soldiers and I arrived in Iraq about two months after the main body of the company. Needless to say, my new experience opened my eyes to a whole new world; a completely different culture than what I was used to in the United States. This was, in fact, my first time outside of the U.S. in my life. It is difficult for a nineteen year old boy to make such drastic adjustments, and then be expected to perform to the “Army Standard.” I will admit that it was quite a struggle at times, and it took me a long while to ever become readjusted to civilian life once I returned home.
During my first mission, I saw a little bloodshed amongst some of the Iraqis that we passed by, but nothing major. Along the route, our convoy found a good location to stop and refuel our hummers. One thing about hummers is that their fuel tanks do not last long at all, so we always had four extra full fuel cans strapped to the back of the vehicle, which we can use to prevent our having to stop at random bases. We basically refuel in the center of the road and then keep going. I am glad that my first mission happened to be one of those peaceful trips around Iraq in which nothing really happened. I was able to learn how missions really worked in a combat zone, without having to figure things out in a life and death situation. Many of my mission experiences were not so fortunate. In a combat zone, you quickly learn to enjoy the little things such as those peaceful missions, the opportunity to observe a donkey lazily pulling a crop laden cart in center of the road, or a herd of camels aimlessly bumbling about in the barren desert. There were just too many missions that were filled with the explosions of IED’s, taking random gunfire from snipers, severe wounds and bleeding, and the air conditioning in our truck going completely out.
Throughout my military career, I served on a total of two deployments. My first deployment in 2005 was close to a year and a half long, while my second deployment in 2008 was right at a year in length. The interesting thing about my two deployment experiences is that both of my deployments were completely different from each other, to the point of almost seeming like I served in two independent desert wars. Maybe the reason for this was that I served my tours during different times and places. I guess such change is proof that the conditions governing the rules of engagement are fluid, and war constantly evolves as it progresses. The overall feel of being thrown into the middle of a combat zone in the Middle East was the same, however. I just find it neat to observe this phenomena first hand.
The times I served in Iraq have proven to be one of the greatest adventures of my life. I have returned to the United States with a new appreciation of the plethora of available opportunities that I once took for granted, such as obtaining a good education at Virginia Tech, and making solid career choices. In many countries, like Iraq, the normal people can never hope to have such opportunities. My fallen comrades, who made the ultimate sacrifice upon the fields of battle, can never hope to return home to live out the opportunities that I have been given the opportunity to pursue. Every single day I carry around this solemn reality as a burden, an eternal shackle of sorts. With such reflection upon my conscience, my entire outlook on life has changed, and I now have a greater understanding and stronger resolve to seize the many opportunities that come my way, so that I may live the dreams that so many cannot.