Mullet Blows and Hamburgers
23 April 2004
FOB KMTB, (CALDWELL)
Iraq
Today was another day in the Diyala province of Iraq and on
some of the oldest soil in these parts.
We had we call on the coast, a “mullet blow.” Of course, there are no mullets in the desert but the wind
whipped its fury throughout the day and there are thunderstorms tonight. Although my room is inside a building and
the windows are never opened, the sand was about 1/8 inch deep everywhere. When you walk outside it cuts through you
and most soldiers wear a scarf in order to protect their faces, which is the
only thing exposed. Our mess tent or
dining facility (the politically correct term) is now only half as large as it
was earlier today. So for dinner
tonight, some of the soldiers got to have a picnic since there was nothing over
their heads. Porta-johns really took a
beating. Only three were left standing
of the approximately 100 stationed throughout our area. The locals were trying to re-erect them
throughout the day only to have these portable restrooms that I wouldn’t even
think of using at home, turn over again.
Our mayor, the Sergeant Major for the 1-113th Field
Artillery, finally had folks fill sandbags and place four of them in each
porta-john. It could help if attacked
by the bad guys but should make that the experience inside doubly
challenging. BG Hickman, our esteemed
leader, says you should only go to a porta-john on the lee of a building, i.e.,
out of the wind. He is such a smart
man. I thought I did hear someone
scream from inside one of the porta-johns while the wind was screaming
furiously. I thought about offering
some assistance but decided better after thinking about it. The discerning soldiers only went to those
porta-johns whose door was facing the wind.
You figure that one out.
I understand that one Warrant Officer whose last name is
Hinnant decided that 40-knot winds is a good time to dry one’s uniform. He, less than intelligently, hung his
uniform outside of his barracks window.
Now clad in only his underwear, he nonchalantly went about the business
of putting on a new uniform. Remember,
the uniform hanging outside. Well, a
gust of wind picked it up and began carrying it across the Iraqi desert. Realizing that some child in Iran will soon
be the owner of said desert camouflage trousers, Chief Hinnant proceeded to
cover his legs and was last seen galloping across the Iraqi desert in hot
pursuit of a pair of pants running without its owner. We sure are going to miss Chief Hinnant.
This afternoon about 1700 hours there was eeriness in the
air like nothing I have ever witnessed.
I can only liken it to a late afternoon back home after a rain. The sun had not been seen all day because
the sky is literally filled with dust and sand. Yet some of the light shone through and cast a glow upon the
buildings that made it appear as if you were looking at them through yellow
sunglasses. Strange stuff. A few of the living tents blew down and I am
certain that those individuals will have a fun night in a sleeping bag filled
with sand. This is life in the
desert. We are grateful for the rocks
placed between buildings so that everything isn’t covered with sand but the
Iraqis know little of what we call “crush and run.” These rocks are actually stones that make walking something of a
challenge. Turned ankles are a real
possibility for those who dare to venture any distance with anything on their
feet but boots.
Tonight was hamburger night at Camp Caldwell. We were served two hamburgers that were
cooked on a grill with these little off-white things covering the top of the
burgers. I asked the server what it was
and he made some comment like, “it will be a good surprise.” I still don’t have a clue what the surprise
was. They gave us two pieces of loaf
bread along with scalloped potatoes (we always have scalloped potatoes) and
pork and beans. The first half of my
Wendy’s double hamburger was good.
After that the dryness of the meat, coupled with the less than generous
condiments squeezed out of those little plastic packages, made going any
further a challenge without a gallon of water.
At least, the first half was good.
I don’t wash my own clothes any more. Yeah!
For the last few weeks, hajji (our affectionate term for any Iraqi) has
been picking up our clothes at a central location and taking them to Baghdad to
be washed. My briefs use to be
white. Now they are light gray in
color. They tell me they are clean. I sure hope so. The brown t-shirts and black socks retain their lovely
colors. They even hang our uniforms on
plastic hangars and cover them with plastic.
Now this is downtown! Except for
the wrinkles, the uniforms look pretty good.
I think it is the hangars. Most
just go around looking they are wearing their pajamas. Not my roomie though. Command Sergeant Major Larry Morgan has his
own iron. He looks so cute ironing his
clothes atop one of my large, black, plastic boxes. He must think that an ironed uniform will make him look better. Well, I have news for him!
On a more serious note, I know everyone back home watches
the news and is fully aware of increased hostilities in Iraq. Please be assured that the soldiers of the
30th are doing an excellent job keeping our roadways clear and
building good will in our area of operations.
Their diligence has paid high rewards by keeping our incidents to a
minimum compared with other areas to the north and west of us. Supplies of every kind are restricted as it
becomes increasingly difficult to recruit truck drivers among the civilian
populace. We are sometimes now eating the
infamous UGR H & S meals. (See earlier letter for description). Please know that none of us are going hungry
and we are in no danger of running out of food. This is only a temporary setback that will soon be alleviated,
thanks to the courage and determination of our soldiers. We are grateful to be where we are in Iraq,
even though we could have better living conditions. All of us will trade the measure of safety we enjoy rather than
be in an area of increased hostilities with better living conditions. Every day we come closer to mover many of
our soldiers out of the tents they now tolerate. We now have a real post office and more telephone and Internet
lines will soon become a reality. A
permanent PX is not far from completion.
Life is looking up in the Iraqi desert know as AO Hickory (where we live
and work).
CH (LTC) Dennis Goodwin
30th BCT Chaplain
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