Week One at Warrior May 1, 2006
Week One at Warrior
May 1, 2006
FOB (Forward Operating Base) Warrior, like any good military base, relies heavily on acronyms and abbreviations to expedite communications and keep civilians in the dark. It was dark when I arrived at Warrior and was taken to my temporary CHU (Containerized Housing Unit) in Pod 11. I’ve since moved to my permanent CHU in Pod 10, which I share with Sergeant Toussaint. There are many pods scattered throughout the base, which covers a vast area, too vast to cover on foot. A bus runs every fifteen minutes or so, making it fairly easy to get from one’s pod to the pool. Yes, the pool.
Today’s military base is a far cry from the base of even three years ago. Here at Warrior, in addition to the fairly wide selection offered by the DFAC (dining facility), soldiers can choose to grab a meal at Pizza Hut, Burger King, or Taco Bell. Coffee, smoothies, and sweet snacks are available at Green Beans, which is open twenty-four hours. It is possible, even easy, to gain weight here. Fortunately, there are gyms on both sides of the base, and, of course, there is the pool.
There are Internet cafes where soldiers can communicate with friends and family, or just surf the Net. The laptops in these cafes get so much use, the letters have often been worn away, and some keys are gone altogether. Movies are shown at night in the gym, and many soldiers have TVs in their living quarters. There is a library, a Laundromat, and the PX, where soldiers can buy supplies.
It is a scene reminiscent of a college campus or an athletic camp, but though it may seem as if these soldiers have it easy, there are a few significant differences. Here, everyone carries a gun. Instead of going off the grounds for fun, as any college student would be free to do, everybody stays on the base. A “Giant Voice,” which issues an alert over a loudspeaker of an attack on the base, is not the same as the sound of a routine fire drill in a dorm. These soldiers can take nothing for granted. They work long hours and must always be poised for a crisis. Their lives are always at risk. Why shouldn’t they enjoy some of the comforts of home? But even with all of the amenities that make life a little more pleasant here, just about everyone has a number in his or her head. The number of days until leave, the number of months until this deployment is over. Even if the pizza in Kirkuk is pretty good, it will always be better at home. And the computers at the Internet cafes wouldn’t be so battered if these soldiers weren’t missing somebody.
I can wander all over the base unescorted, so it is easy to believe this is a safe place. I’ve already become used to certain sights and sounds. The guns are just another accessory, like a backpack. The uniforms seem like a good idea; no more having to decide what to wear. The Humvees blend into the landscape. The landscape includes trees, birds, geckoes, and even some flowers in unexpected places. Evidence of the past exists right alongside evidence of the future. An overgrown cemetery, perhaps hundreds of years old, sits between a parking lot full of Humvees and a road lined with bunkers. Sure, there are rows of cannons where you might expect to see rows of bushes, but the place has a certain charm. It is only when the sound of gunfire just outside the base interrupts a conversation, or the “Giant Voice” shuts down the DFAC for an hour, as it did today, that I realize I have taken so much for granted. When I finally sat down to lunch, I treated myself to a bowl of ice cream for dessert. Well, it is over ninety degrees outside. It was Baskin-Robbins ice cream, and it was good. But I know it would have been better at home, where I would have shared it with my dog Sassy while I watched ESPN with my brother Charlie. slm101st@yahoo.com
May 1, 2006
FOB (Forward Operating Base) Warrior, like any good military base, relies heavily on acronyms and abbreviations to expedite communications and keep civilians in the dark. It was dark when I arrived at Warrior and was taken to my temporary CHU (Containerized Housing Unit) in Pod 11. I’ve since moved to my permanent CHU in Pod 10, which I share with Sergeant Toussaint. There are many pods scattered throughout the base, which covers a vast area, too vast to cover on foot. A bus runs every fifteen minutes or so, making it fairly easy to get from one’s pod to the pool. Yes, the pool.
Today’s military base is a far cry from the base of even three years ago. Here at Warrior, in addition to the fairly wide selection offered by the DFAC (dining facility), soldiers can choose to grab a meal at Pizza Hut, Burger King, or Taco Bell. Coffee, smoothies, and sweet snacks are available at Green Beans, which is open twenty-four hours. It is possible, even easy, to gain weight here. Fortunately, there are gyms on both sides of the base, and, of course, there is the pool.
There are Internet cafes where soldiers can communicate with friends and family, or just surf the Net. The laptops in these cafes get so much use, the letters have often been worn away, and some keys are gone altogether. Movies are shown at night in the gym, and many soldiers have TVs in their living quarters. There is a library, a Laundromat, and the PX, where soldiers can buy supplies.
It is a scene reminiscent of a college campus or an athletic camp, but though it may seem as if these soldiers have it easy, there are a few significant differences. Here, everyone carries a gun. Instead of going off the grounds for fun, as any college student would be free to do, everybody stays on the base. A “Giant Voice,” which issues an alert over a loudspeaker of an attack on the base, is not the same as the sound of a routine fire drill in a dorm. These soldiers can take nothing for granted. They work long hours and must always be poised for a crisis. Their lives are always at risk. Why shouldn’t they enjoy some of the comforts of home? But even with all of the amenities that make life a little more pleasant here, just about everyone has a number in his or her head. The number of days until leave, the number of months until this deployment is over. Even if the pizza in Kirkuk is pretty good, it will always be better at home. And the computers at the Internet cafes wouldn’t be so battered if these soldiers weren’t missing somebody.
I can wander all over the base unescorted, so it is easy to believe this is a safe place. I’ve already become used to certain sights and sounds. The guns are just another accessory, like a backpack. The uniforms seem like a good idea; no more having to decide what to wear. The Humvees blend into the landscape. The landscape includes trees, birds, geckoes, and even some flowers in unexpected places. Evidence of the past exists right alongside evidence of the future. An overgrown cemetery, perhaps hundreds of years old, sits between a parking lot full of Humvees and a road lined with bunkers. Sure, there are rows of cannons where you might expect to see rows of bushes, but the place has a certain charm. It is only when the sound of gunfire just outside the base interrupts a conversation, or the “Giant Voice” shuts down the DFAC for an hour, as it did today, that I realize I have taken so much for granted. When I finally sat down to lunch, I treated myself to a bowl of ice cream for dessert. Well, it is over ninety degrees outside. It was Baskin-Robbins ice cream, and it was good. But I know it would have been better at home, where I would have shared it with my dog Sassy while I watched ESPN with my brother Charlie. slm101st@yahoo.com
posted by Shelby Monroe at 5:26 AM
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