Night conceals the reality of day. The reality that morning light brought was that FOB Warhorse is a depressing place. It’s a small place, devoid of color, and extremely dusty. Ever since the “Surge” it has been home to a lot more soldiers than it’s original design called for. Everywhere you look is Hesco barriers (portable chicken wire and canvas barriers filled with dirt) and concrete jersey barriers. Behind every wall are tents, CHUs, and hastily constructed plywood buildings. At the base of all of it is the thickest layer of fine-powder dust I’ve ever seen. It’s moon dust. The NASA landings could have been staged here. There is only one paved road at FOB Warhorse and it is a former runway. The talc covers all, chokes all, and dominates all. The only thing good I could think about was that fortunately it wasn’t raining. At least dust doesn’t stick to boots. This powder was just like a Betty Crocker cake mix. It was just waiting for water and a mixing bowl. In most places the dust was ankle deep. The only exception was in housing areas, where gravel had been placed. This was the scene that awaited me when I arose from my hooch.
My team was on another training mission. This time we were supporting a Striker brigade from Fort Lewis, WA. Our contact met us first thing and took us to the DFAC. We quickly noticed how packed the place was. There’s only one DFAC here. After breakfast we returned to the brigade headquarters and set up for class in the conference room. During the course of the morning we taught our normal refresher training to about 30 or so soldiers. We had agreed to inspect containers for serviceability once classes were finished and set about this task as soon as classes were complete. I didn’t realize how many containers we would be looking at. It was over 100. All of them were located in the dustiest of locations. Most of them required moving before we could look at them. A long, hot, and dusty afternoon ensued. We worked right through lunch. Many of the containers were unserviceable due to holes in the sides or roofs. We continually drained water but seemed to sweat it out faster than we consumed. I even had sweat pouring through the tongue of my boots. That sucked because it made the dust cake around the laces. Just as we were finishing inspecting one container a humvee screamed up and stopped. The doors flew open and the soldiers inside bailed out lightning fast. One of them opened the door, threw off his Kevlar, took off his body armor, and removed his ACU jacket. What was amazing is that he did it all in one motion. Every one of them looked like they had been dipped in the swimming pool. They were drenched in sweat – their faces red. The NCO in charge told me they had just returned from mission but their AC had conked out the day before. I asked why they weren’t given another for today’s mission (no AC is a maintenance deadline). He told me there weren’t any more available in the battalion. I got to thinking that were I their battalion commander I would have let them use my humvee. They looked so miserable. The outside temperature soared to the 120’s. It was humid too. It must’ve been 140 or more inside their humvee.
At one point we were wrapping up another container inspection when we noticed everyone around us had stopped what they were doing. Looking around, we saw the reason. Nearby was a female soldier ground-guiding a HETT (Heavy Equipment Transporter Truck). She was petite, blonde, and very shapely. Due to the heat she had removed her ACU top to reveal her form-fitting Under Armor t-shirt. Every male soldier in a 300 meter radius was enamored. I had been saying something and noticed the sudden silence. Looking around, I saw what was happening. All I could do was laugh. Boys will be boys and, I must admit, she was one of the hottest soldiers I’ve ever seen. She was quite aware of the attention and simply went along with the adoration. On a small FOB like Warhorse I’d be certain she is known by all. I was just witnessing a daily occurrence.
The last bunch of containers we inspected shared real estate with a mortar firing point. Adjacent to the containers were two Striker 120mm mortar carriers set up for business. Being a former mortar platoon leader, I had to go talk to the 11 Charlies (that’s lingo for their MOS – 11C, Infantry Mortarmen). As I expected they were a funny group. 11C Joes are very blunt but always in good morale. They had come to Warhorse for what was supposed to be 60 days but was now going on 140. All of their personal gear was back at Camp Liberty. I asked where they were from and three of them quickly responded “Fort Lewis, Sir!” I said, “I know he Army owns you but I meant where you are from.” They laughed and made the correction. One of them was from New York. I said, “I’ll bet you’re a Yankees fan.” He said, “only when there’s a Red Sox fan around.” I said, “well that makes you a Yankees fan right now.” We shared a laugh. The mortar Joes set my team up with some ice cold water and we continued our inspections. A little later they broke out RC cars and started racing them in the dust, which was more than ankle deep in places (refer to the photo of my boot prints that was taken in the same location). As we were leaving I went back over to the mortar Joes and shook every one of their hands, thanking them for what they do.
Around 1900 we finally finished our inspections. All three of us were caked with dust and sweat. We dusted ourselves off and headed to the DFAC. Once inside we all ate as if in a daze. The plan was to meet back at the brigade HQ for 2200 for a ride back to the pax terminal. We’d been told that our flight was at 0030. Another surprise was in store for us. When we arrived at the pax terminal we checked in and waited for confirmation on our flight. This required a secure phone call back to Catfish Air in Balad. While we waited we noticed camel spiders scurrying around in the darkness. A little while later we received bad news. Our flight was for the next night. There were no flights to Balad this evening. We looked at each other with pained expressions. We’d been doomed to another day in FOB Warhorse. The mission had gone very well but we weren’t hip on another day here. Oh well… A short time later we were back in our hooches. I peeled off my sweaty clothes and collapsed on the bed. It’s absolutely amazing how much the heat can sap every ounce of strength from your body. I told my team that I didn’t want to see them again until 2200 the next evening. Translation? Go get some sleep!
My team was on another training mission. This time we were supporting a Striker brigade from Fort Lewis, WA. Our contact met us first thing and took us to the DFAC. We quickly noticed how packed the place was. There’s only one DFAC here. After breakfast we returned to the brigade headquarters and set up for class in the conference room. During the course of the morning we taught our normal refresher training to about 30 or so soldiers. We had agreed to inspect containers for serviceability once classes were finished and set about this task as soon as classes were complete. I didn’t realize how many containers we would be looking at. It was over 100. All of them were located in the dustiest of locations. Most of them required moving before we could look at them. A long, hot, and dusty afternoon ensued. We worked right through lunch. Many of the containers were unserviceable due to holes in the sides or roofs. We continually drained water but seemed to sweat it out faster than we consumed. I even had sweat pouring through the tongue of my boots. That sucked because it made the dust cake around the laces. Just as we were finishing inspecting one container a humvee screamed up and stopped. The doors flew open and the soldiers inside bailed out lightning fast. One of them opened the door, threw off his Kevlar, took off his body armor, and removed his ACU jacket. What was amazing is that he did it all in one motion. Every one of them looked like they had been dipped in the swimming pool. They were drenched in sweat – their faces red. The NCO in charge told me they had just returned from mission but their AC had conked out the day before. I asked why they weren’t given another for today’s mission (no AC is a maintenance deadline). He told me there weren’t any more available in the battalion. I got to thinking that were I their battalion commander I would have let them use my humvee. They looked so miserable. The outside temperature soared to the 120’s. It was humid too. It must’ve been 140 or more inside their humvee.
At one point we were wrapping up another container inspection when we noticed everyone around us had stopped what they were doing. Looking around, we saw the reason. Nearby was a female soldier ground-guiding a HETT (Heavy Equipment Transporter Truck). She was petite, blonde, and very shapely. Due to the heat she had removed her ACU top to reveal her form-fitting Under Armor t-shirt. Every male soldier in a 300 meter radius was enamored. I had been saying something and noticed the sudden silence. Looking around, I saw what was happening. All I could do was laugh. Boys will be boys and, I must admit, she was one of the hottest soldiers I’ve ever seen. She was quite aware of the attention and simply went along with the adoration. On a small FOB like Warhorse I’d be certain she is known by all. I was just witnessing a daily occurrence.
The last bunch of containers we inspected shared real estate with a mortar firing point. Adjacent to the containers were two Striker 120mm mortar carriers set up for business. Being a former mortar platoon leader, I had to go talk to the 11 Charlies (that’s lingo for their MOS – 11C, Infantry Mortarmen). As I expected they were a funny group. 11C Joes are very blunt but always in good morale. They had come to Warhorse for what was supposed to be 60 days but was now going on 140. All of their personal gear was back at Camp Liberty. I asked where they were from and three of them quickly responded “Fort Lewis, Sir!” I said, “I know he Army owns you but I meant where you are from.” They laughed and made the correction. One of them was from New York. I said, “I’ll bet you’re a Yankees fan.” He said, “only when there’s a Red Sox fan around.” I said, “well that makes you a Yankees fan right now.” We shared a laugh. The mortar Joes set my team up with some ice cold water and we continued our inspections. A little later they broke out RC cars and started racing them in the dust, which was more than ankle deep in places (refer to the photo of my boot prints that was taken in the same location). As we were leaving I went back over to the mortar Joes and shook every one of their hands, thanking them for what they do.
Around 1900 we finally finished our inspections. All three of us were caked with dust and sweat. We dusted ourselves off and headed to the DFAC. Once inside we all ate as if in a daze. The plan was to meet back at the brigade HQ for 2200 for a ride back to the pax terminal. We’d been told that our flight was at 0030. Another surprise was in store for us. When we arrived at the pax terminal we checked in and waited for confirmation on our flight. This required a secure phone call back to Catfish Air in Balad. While we waited we noticed camel spiders scurrying around in the darkness. A little while later we received bad news. Our flight was for the next night. There were no flights to Balad this evening. We looked at each other with pained expressions. We’d been doomed to another day in FOB Warhorse. The mission had gone very well but we weren’t hip on another day here. Oh well… A short time later we were back in our hooches. I peeled off my sweaty clothes and collapsed on the bed. It’s absolutely amazing how much the heat can sap every ounce of strength from your body. I told my team that I didn’t want to see them again until 2200 the next evening. Translation? Go get some sleep!
2 comments:
"Boys will be boys and, I must admit, she was one of the hottest soldiers I’ve ever seen." And did you miss out on this photo op, or are you waiting to post it later?
Sir,
I have been reading through your posts and pictures from FOB Warhorse. I would like to show some of your pictures in an upcoming conference on soldier health, I am a researcher at Johns Hopkins. The postings and pictures are excellent, enjoyed the descriptions of dust and dust storms in Iraq.
Best to you at FOB Warhorse
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