We touched down around 1830, and already very dark in Kuwait City. For reasons unknown, we waited on the plane for about a half hour, then were herded into large Mercedes Benz diesel buses. Again we waited, maybe 20 minutes this time, then we drove very slowly to one side of the airport, where the bus stopped, and we waited, every seat taken, no one speaking much, for another 10-15 minutes before the lights suddenly went on and we were informed that there would be a delay in getting us to the staging area. We could get out of the bus and have some water, there was a row of porta-potties, and a smoking area. Right now, I am sitting under a sort of mosquito net tent, in a very dusty area. Every time my arm touches the table, it gets a fine, dry, brown coating on it, which comes off (mostly) with a flick. The water bottes are kind of cool—called “Arwa” and made by the Coca Cola company, in a very Dasani-esque bottle. Looks like Dasani, tastes like Dasani…
No internet here—actually, 3 wireless networks show up on my system, but all security-enabled, no names, not connectable. I tried the T-Mobile phone just for kicks; no signal. I know that some other peoples’ phones are working, as I have seen a few have brief “I’m here; I’m okay” conversations. If this delay is long, I’ll ask someone if I can borrow their phone and pay them for the charges, just to let the kids know I am here. Hard to believe that I still have one more flight before I hit my final destination. I think I may have a cot before that time, though (maybe even for a few days). I’d rather get to my eventual destination ASAP; no use hanging around in Kuwait.
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Okay by 2000 hrs, we were back on the Benz-bus, and went on a slow, interminable journey from the airport to Camp Al Salem. I slept much of the way, but occasionally would wake up and look at the lunar landscape of sand, man-made ditches and hills, and lights off in the distance in all directions. Occasionally when we turned a corner, I could see that we were traveling so slowly because we were in a seemingly endless convoy of buses, all apparently headed to the same place. Seems (and I later confirmed this), that we were not the only flight in on that day, in that hour.
We finally reached Camp XX (I am purposely omitting the name here), where we were logged in (swiped our ID cards, which starts our combat pay, family separation pay, tax-free pay, hazardous duty pay, and, most importantly, starts the clock ticking on our deployment). We were then briefed on the dos and don’ts of the Camp XX is a veritable city of tents, lined up neatly (in fact, that portion of the camp is called “tent city”). We formed up underneath a cover, and during the formation, a SSG female started calling out names.
When you are in an Army formation, and someone calls out your name on a list, it is usually a bad thing (i.e., a list for latrine duty, or a list of people who missed the earlier formation, etc. However, maybe 10% of the time it is a good thing, and I can usually tell whether good or bad by the other people whose names are called. In this case, the list was all doctors, so probably good. Turns out we are all heading to another Camp YY, where we will receive additional training and then a flight out. Don’t know whether a trip to Camp YY is good compared to staying here at XX, but I’ll find out soon.
Our bus to YY did not leave until 0100, so we had an hour to round up our luggage and grab some chow. A kind soldier plugged my laptop in for me to recharge it, and I went to the mess hall which was very nice–clean, and with good-looking hot food. Scramblies with Texas Pete’s was my fix for the new day (the Sabbath, I’m just remembering), and the requisite Coke. I also grabbed a bag of chips, mostly because I liked the Arabic “Lay’s” on the cover. There was also a McDonalds and Pizza Hut open, along with a Subway, but the mess hall had the distinct advantage of being FREE.
Back to the bus terminal, and we loaded our heavy duffles into the bus, and then ourselves. A bit freaky, as we have two gunners on this bus, both sitting in front with loaded weapons, ready to protect us as needed. We were asked to close all curtains, and keep them closed, and to avoid the temptation to peek outside. It occurs to me that this is probably the most dangerous bus ride I have taken to-date (though I am not so certain of that, as I remember back to one of my school bus drivers in California.
Well, three yawns and you’re out, so that does it for me. 0152 AM, Kuwaiti time, signing out.
