Oct
19
2009
|
The Commute |
|
|
|
Written by JD Johannes
|
|
Monday, 19 October 2009 |
The drive east on the interstate 70 turnpike is pretty common for people in Eastern Kansas. Residents of Lawrence and Topeka who work in Kansas City drive into the sun in the morning and again at night.
I skirted around Kansas City proper, heading North on the 435 loop to Kansas City International Airport for a flight to Washington, DC.
Kansas City is a hub for federal agencies. The flights to DC are always filled with politicians, bureacrats, lobbyists and lawyers.
This Monday was no exception.
I parked my car in the garage. Kinda pricey at $18 dollars a day, but it wouldn't be there long. A friend of mine was flying home from Seattle in the evening and would drive my car home. It worked out good for both of us, especially since I will not need my car until December when I get home from working in Iraq.
Yeah, I have a long commute to the office.
---
It wasn't the longest or worst layover ever. That prize goes to sleeping in Heathrow's International Arrival's Lounge one night.
Six hours at Dulles is still longer than I would prefer.
On my
commute I used to go Kansas City to Chicago to London to Kuwait. But
recently I've become a fan of the 13 hour non-stop to Kuwait or the 14
hour hour special from Atlanta to Dubai when commuting to Afghanistan.
That
I know these routes well should be a clue--I've been doing this too
long. If the average American is suffering from war fatigue from just
looking at the headlines, I need to be checked in to Betty Ford for
'exhaustion.' I honestly don't know how Yon and the soldiers survive
the grind.
---
CNN blaring out of every flat panel. Afternoon
now, the Wolf Blitzer marathon. McChrystal report debate. To send
more troops, declare the effort impossible, Biden plan (Magic Ninjas!)
or just keep on keeping on.
Where do they find these 'strategists' who know so little about warfare?
---
All the usual suspects are filtering in for this flight. Lots of cargo pants, sturdy shoes and coyote tan back packs.
There
are no tourists headed to Kuwait. Just a few Arabs and South Asians
and employees of the various support contractors in Iraq.
On my
first trips to Iraq I used to wear the cargo pants and sturdy shoes for
the flight. Now I wear track pants, t-shirt and tennis shoes.
When I flew home Afghanistan a month ago I was wearing flip flops when my driver dropped me off at Kabul International.
---
Why is it so hard to get food with protein at an airport?
---
This
flight used to be jam packed. Economy class, where I always fly, is
half empty on this one. No leg room, but the elbow room makes up for
it.
---
"What company you working for?" is the most common
question. On flights like this is where people whose projects are
running out find new opportunities for employment and compare notes on
the various companies with contracts from construction to data services.
There is a pipefitter on my left and a surveyor on my right.
I
don't look like a reporter. Never have, hopefully never will. When
the inevitable question is asked my answer can be a conversation killer.
I
can honestly say that the company I work for is my own. I'm an
employee of no one. But I have been a correspondent for TIME. On
this trip I'm also working in cooperation with the Cantigny First
Division Museum to gather raw historical material, along with the normal blogging / documentary work.
The question comes. I say I'm an historian.
---
One
movie, two in-flight meals, three protein bars and 10mg of Ambein and
twelve hours later we touch down at Kuwait City International Airport.
Twenty minutes and 3 Kuwaiti Dinars later I have my visa and I'm en route to the transit point.
The transit point hasn't changed since my first layover there in 2005.
I turn in my passport to get stamped out and catch a C-130 to Baghdad.
---
At
this point in the story I'm supposed to describe the cork screw
landing. Of course there hasn't been much need for that type of
landing pattern in years.
I honestly don't know if we did a cork screw or not. I dozed off and didn't wake up until we touched down.
Somewhere along the line this all somehow became normal for me.
---
The
military terminal a BIAP is on its 4th remodeling. Supposedly we are
leaving in a year, but we still build like we are going to be here
forever--because we will be here forever.
---
Two shuttle bus rides and I'm on the evening Rhino run to the IZ.
We
roll down the famed Route Irish which used to be the most dangerous
road in the world. That title has surely shifted to some unnamed goat
trail in Afghanistan.
The only thing dangerous about this ride
is the speed bumps heading into the International Zone. When driven
over too fast in and MRAP or Rhino they can crush vertebrae.
---
Hmmm. This isn't where I thought I would be dropped off.
The
Green Zone is getting smaller and smaller--at least the American sector
is. It is being consolidated around the new embassy into a few camps,
becoming essentially a large US military base in the middle of the city.
I jump in a bus and eventually make my way to the LZ where I can call for a ride to the Press Center (CPIC).
---
It has moved too.
Way
back when it was in the convention center literally right beside the
Iraqi parliament. If you rolled in late at night you slept on the
floor in a large foyer and woke up to Iraq politicians milling around.
A
few years later it moved to felt like a parking garage. All the
reporters bunked in a large communal room where we would sit around and
complain and embelish our recent adventures.
Now it is on FOB Prosperity and I slept on a cot in trailer called a CHU or Containerized Housing Unit.
---
On
Camp Victory Baghdad there are trailer parks with hundreds of CHUs
lined up precisely and separated by concrete blast barriers.
In
2007 and 2008 these were beehives of activity housing entire combat
brigades with Humvees and MRAPs constantly coming and going.
Now they are more like ghost towns.
---
According the last number I read there are 140,000 US troops in Iraq. It seems like less than that.
---
I
catch a meal at the Dining Facility or DFAC. The Ugandan Guards give
my Press ID and Invitational Travel Orders the once over. The most
useless badge in Iraq is a Press ID.
If it was a purely security
thing, they could pat me down or wand me with the metal detector to
determine I was not concealing a bomb.
But it seems to be more about "authorization". Am I allowed to be inside a DFAC or PX or anywhere?
The
irony is that over the years I've video taped classified mission
briefings then gone on the missions recording everything. Once back
from the mission I may not be allowed eat with the Soldiers I was
outside the wire with.
---
If you were standing at the helicopter
refuling site at camp Taji, seeing us debark the Blackhawk helicopter
would have looked like a circus clown car.
Soldiers, civillians, lots of duffle bags, two Special Forces types and a detainee with black out goggles.
We
took the scenic route--Green Zone to Taji for fuel, Taji to some
obscure landing pad at BIAP where the detainee and all the evidence
against him including computers were dropped off, obscure landing pad
to LZ Liberty, Liberty to Warhorse where we got more fuel and imitated
the clown car again, Warhorse to Balad, Balad to Speicher.
It took about four hours.
I was surprised I could walk when got off the helicopter.
Memo
to self: Try to take C-`130 non-stop from Speicher to transit point on
the way home. Or at least helicopter to Balad then fixed wing to
transit point.
The Non-Commissioned Officer in Charge of the
Public Affairs Detachment picks me up at the passenger terminal and
gives me the quick tour of the base.
Quick because they have my introduction interview already scheduled.
---
One
hundred and eight hours after I left my home, I'm at finally at the
office of Colonel Henry Arnold the Commander of the 4th Brigade of the
1st Infantry Division to start working.
---
The annoying part about being an international man of adventure is that I have to go on international adventures.
JD relies on viewer support to keep reporting from the war zone. Please hit the tip jar or buy a dvd.
|
|
|
 |
|
|
