Yesterday we arrived at Ali al-Saleem airbase in Kuwait with my 12 troops who make up our advance party. I was not originally scheduled to leave early, but was pulled in and told the troops who were going out early needed "adult supervision" - so they sent me? Go figure. I literally am here with our 'dirty dozen' - the angry, bitter and depressed. I was told I am "uniquely qualified" to deal with these young soldiers and to get them safely out of Iraq. I was told, "They like you and will do what you ask of them; if we send them with anyone else there will be trouble."
Sometimes it pays to be a teacher. And these 'kids' have loaded guns.
We had a uneventful flight on the C-130 Hercules that flew us out of Baghdad. I used to jump out of them years ago when I was in an airborne unit, now I just enjoy the ride.
I love the "jump seats" piled with bodies and gear, with everyone leaning on one another as we tried to catch a little nap on the way down. Now that is real flying: the roar of four turbo props chopping at the air as they wind up the engines with the brakes held tightly until it feels like the plane will shake apart, then suddenly they release and you are nearly thrown from your 'seat'. And no C-130 trip is complete without the stong smell of jet fuel. Ahhhh!! That takes me back to my youth.
As we climbed on board the Air Force guys who were loading the cargo smiled and said, "Look at her, she is the finest piece of equipment the taxpayers could buy in 1974." Oh great, I am flying out of a war zone on an airplane that is 35 years old. You can't scare me, a few years back the tank I was using was make in 1957. I guess we build them well for the military or we take damn good care of them. They sure keep going.
When we arrived at the air base we ate some 'Jimmy Dean' meals and then were put up in 'transient tents' to await the arrival of our rear detachement who are due next week. We are doing some outprocessing while we wait for their arrival. Mostly there is some quiet time to adjust to the absence of someone shooting at you. I can see value in this. It is nice to have the relative quiet. I gladly trade the sound of exploding mortars, rockets, and car-bombs for the quiet hum of generators and military transport aircraft taking troops home.
To help them readjust, I have pretty much cut the troops loose. Their requirement is for them to check in with me once a day to verify they have positive control of their 'sensative items': gas mask, machine gun, pistol, and ammunition. Each day I inform them of any briefings they need to attend. Other than that they are free to roam the base which is surrounded by miles and miles of the most barren desert you can imagine. Not even a camel in sight. They were all quite content when I last saw them this afternoon.
I will let you know how it goes.
Mission accomplished - Inshala
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