iraqistan

The new kids are officially on the block, we are packing our belongings into as small of packages as we can, and things are getting ready to wind down for us here on the ol’ Iraqi stomping grounds. Things are not that interesting anymore, though we still find our way into adventure. I realized that I missed some adventures along the way, and should remedy that before history fails to document the superfun times we have out here. Since we are still at red alert status right now (those whacky Iraqis), I have a few minutes to recall some of the finer points of the last month or so…

Well first there was what I like to call the little bang-up… driving down one of the more treacherous roads in an area we didn’t know because we had to initially fly up there, I got a front row seat to a little accident involving our truck, a bongo truck, and a frontloader.

Clarification points: No, I don’t know what a frontloader was doing driving down the center of the main road in one of the larger cities of Iraq. Yes, we were going pretty fast because the road isn’t exactly what most would consider Safety Central. And for those who don’t know, the bongo trucks are the blue (usually) Kia model trucks with railing in the back so they can carry wheat, sheep, cows, or, as in this case, a minimum of eight Iraqi laborers.

So we are driving along, and as we are doing so, usually people get out of the way. Not so much in this case, as the laborers watched our convoy come up and weren’t moving to the side of the road. They then swerved not off to the side, but more to the front of us, and this was at the last minute, so we hit them. As a note: an up-armored truck can take out a bongo truck pretty easily, particularly at fast speeds. Turns out there was a frontloader cruising in front of said bongo truck. The results were less than pretty. Two Iraqis were killed (we were all okay, being encased in a steel box as we were), as the frontloader had actually been spun 90 degrees by the impact. I can let those interested figure out the details.

A few weeks later, we were back in our regular area exploring the greater reaches of pre-election fun. My truck commander mentioned that there would be a controlled detonation… five minutes later, there was an uncontolled detonation a few meters in front of the lead vehicle, raining dirt and fun upon our vehicle and the impact jamming my brain into the side of my skull. I have had quite the headaches periodically since, but no one was injured. Well, almost no one, as the gunner of the front truck was very proud of his shrapnel wound, a few millimeter square piece that was in his finger. Very proud indeed. I asked him if he needed a band-aid and offered to help with his Purple Heart paperwork. He got a little upset with me. Mental note: Samoans trying to show off war injuries should be treated with extra caution. That was the same day we went and saw the guy who looked like he had been attacked by zombies, with his head cracked open like a coconut (exit wound… my partner and I now have a hand signal for “shot in the eyeball” to accompany our “two clicks to burst” signal). One of the infantry guys was taking pictures when he started feeling a little woozy. We stood around discussing career options once we had figured out the story behind the shooting. Really very interesting. If you have a strong stomach and some guy wanders up to you and says something like, “Um… there’s a dead guy on my front lawn… can you guys come take care of that?” I would suggest it. Really a rather interesting time. I’m on the lookout for zombies…

This was all the day after we were sitting in a meeting handing out snacks in exchange for probably inaccurate information when I heard a pop outside. Growing up near Newark, New Jersey, I recognized gunfire and we were already heading out the door when the Samoan standing guard outside was coming in to get us among the sounds of a few more pops. Back to our trucks to go head out to find the shooters, though they had intelligently cleared out of the area by the time we got around the nearby trees and the canal to find them, and we were off to establish a checkpoint for another four hours while the Samoans let their adrenaline get back to normal levels.

What else. Oh yes. Because of these things all in one week, I was told I was crazy by people in my unit. It was probably the zombie talk… but the medic cleared me, so I still get to go out and mingle with my favorite Iraqis… I do have some headaches, but maybe those aren’t related to the kaboom after all. I have, after all, just spent ten months figuring out the difference between Akmed and Akhmed. I’m sure with time the headaches will go away, though then again I am still in the Army.

So as our time gets short, things wind up in preparation to wind down. It’s like in the scary movies or the war movies when someone shows a picture of their fiancee or something: you just signed your own incident warrant…