I am sitting here in my cozy (read: very very very small) room on an as yet unspecified (to you, anyway) military post in Iraq. Right now, I am sitting on my bed, covered with my tie-dyed fleece blanket from home, watching American Idol (delayed from yesterday night) on the Armed Forces Network. The air outside of my room is a cool-but-comfortable 60 degrees even, with about 40% humidity, after a day in which sheets of rain fell at intermittent intervals. Helicopters are flying overhead (sounds like DIRECTLY overhead), and the post commander just announced over a massive loudspeaker that that there will be an installation-wide accountability check tonight (not sure quite what that means yet, but I’d lay down pretty good money that I’ll be getting out of bed in the not-too-distant future.

I have completed my first day in the troop medical clinic here, and am happy to report that my six months here will most definitely be tolerable. So much to talk about, and I will not be able to get to nearly all of it tonight, but I will try to catch up a bit.

On Tuesday night, my medical LNO (liaison officer) came to find me in my tent at Camp Buehring, Kuwait (formerly known to you as “YY”), around 6 PM and informed me that I would be flying out of another base, Ali Al Salem (”XX”) at 0800 on Wednesday. We would be leaving for Al Salem tonight, on one of the Benz-buses. COL Vigersky would go with me, along with the LNO and another soldier from Buehring. I went and packed my bags quickly, and I met the bus, threw my three dusty green duffles on board, and hopped in the van. As I got in, the LNO handed me a loaded magazine for my M9 pistol, and informed me that I should keep that at the ready at all times. The other passengers were similarly armed.

This trip was much quicker than either of my prior bus rides—we seemed to zoom through the darkness of the Kuwaiti desert, hitting a pothole here and there, but the driver pretty much ignoring the bumps. Again, looking through the window, I was struck by the lack of things outside. By “things,” I mean that quite literally: in between Al Salem and Buehring, about an hour’s ride, there is only sand, cement barricades, and asphalt. And always—always—the glow of lights off in the distance, just beyond the point where I can see the source of the yellowish rim.

We got to Ali Al Salem around 10 PM or so, and checked in there. I would be bunking in tent city, with COL Vigersky in another tent. His flight had a “showtime” of 0400, mine was 0800. The LNO, who is an excellent, very squared-away soldier named SSG Yu, double checked that we were on the flight manifests, got us each a place to sleep, and even arranged for a little golf cart pickup truck (a “gator” in Army lingo) to pick up our bags and get them to our tents, and then pick them up again in the morning to bring them back to the terminal. A thoughtful thing, which he didn’t have to do, but made both of our lives just a bit nicer.

I said my goodbyes to the COL, and headed off to my tent, and found that I had a lot of bunkmates–PVTs, CPLs, SGTs, SSGs, most of whom were sprawled across their green plastic mattresses, no covers, often using their dusty duffles as pillows, a couple of them playing on PSPs or on laptops. No one looked up when I entered the room—these guys were each all alone, like me, away from their units, waiting for a flight somewhere. I have learned that some stay in this transient status for weeks at a time, often trying every day to get a flight out of there. Flights to some of the more obscure places do not occur every day, and when they do, sometimes lower-ranking soldiers get bumped off of the flights. Many of the planes only carry a few people at a time. The larger ones max out at 50 or so.

Al Salem itself is an interesting place. It is the dustiest of the bases I have visited, and because of the transient nature of the population, has some problems with graffiti, theft, etc. The base is 35 miles from the Iraqi border, and was the first to fall when Saddam invaded in 1990. Most of the Kuwaiti soldiers there, faced with overwhelming odds, simply fled. The commanding general and some officers and regular soldiers remained to fight, and lost within 30 minutes. The general was immediately hung from the base flagpole, which still stands today. This just in: Saddam Hussein was not a nice guy.

After dropping my bags off in the tent, I went to find the USO building, which is usually a place where a soldier can sit down for a bit, rest, get some snacky food sent in general care packages to whomever needs it (by the way: thanks for the granola bars, Third Presbyterian Church of Peoria!), and possibly get on the internet. Alas, the USO was closed for remodeling. That left the MWR tent. MWR is the Army program to provide “Morale, Welfare, and Recreation” for the soldiers. It is not bad, and I appreciate that it exists at all, but as usual, the private, non-profit USO beats it hands down. However, there were computers in the MWR tent, and I was able to chat a bit with the family, before heading for the showers. Unfortunately, the showers were a long way away from my tent. This is unfortunate, because I am convinced that there is something in my skin which makes me a magnet for the Kuwait dust. When in Kuwait, I am like “Pigpen” from Peanuts: I can wash myself sparkly clean, but as soon as I hit the open air, the cloud surrounds me, and eventually sticks to me. Ah well, what are you gonna do?

So I drag my clean-but-dusty butt back into the tent, weave my way among the sergeants, and start to make my bed. Though no one noticed me before, as I stand there putting actual blankets on my bed, the kids looked at me in wonder, kind of the way you’d stare at a guy doing ballet in the middle of the road. Didn’t bother me though: I had about 4 hours to sleep and I wasn’t going to spend it repeatedly unsticking my leg to the mattress. (Hey, maybe the dust would come in handy there—sort of a buffer between me and the plastic.) I made a pillow out of a couple of t-shirts and began to lie down, when I realized that, unlike my prior tent, where we all pretty much crashed at the same time, here at Al Salem, I didn’t know these guys well enough to tell them it was nighty-nights time. Plus, some of them would probably be packing up and leaving in the middle of the night, so they would need to be able to see. So I would be sleeping with the lights on.

This may sound like no big deal to you. After all, at home, you probably sometimes have a nap during the day, or sleep with a night light, maybe even a regular light on occasionally. But you have to understand these Army Fluorescents. These things are blindingly bright. When I first experienced them, I thought I had walked into a tanning salon. In the cramped, hot tent, with a string of probably 8-10 of these things on either side of the ceiling, it felt like one of those fabled torture chambers, where they keep the prisoner up for days at a time. I tried manipulating the blanket in some way, and even selectively turning off the light nearest to my bed, but no dice. An Army light would not have such a luxury as a switch. That would have cost another 2 cents from the contractor. Leave your precious on/off switches for the Air Force pansies; we Army people don’t need such “amenities” to complete our missions.

So, I resigned myself to a sleep without any melatonin (it was surely scared away by now), and flopped onto the bed, with the one thing I could not bear to lose (my iPod) and the one thing I was not allowed to lose (my M9 pistol) tucked under the covers with me. By 0130, I was laying in my tanning bed, and eventually fell asleep with the burning question in my mind: “What is the SPF of Kuwaiti dust?”

Will Erik wake up with an uneven sunburn? Or even paler than before? Will he correctly follow the LNO’s detailed instructions (admittedly, not my strong suit) and make it onto the C-130 plane flying into the as-yet-unspecified Iraqi base (a.k.a. “AYUIB”)? Will his mother read this blog and feel the need to comment prodigiously on Erik’s incorrect use of “lay” and “lie”? You’ll have to tune in tomorrow to find out…

Quick message today; more to follow later tonight (probably a long entry). After a very eventful 24 hours, I finally made it to my intended destination, a Forward Operating Base (FOB) in Iraq. (I think that I can tell you more specifics about the base soon, but I have to get permission from one of the security people first.) It is very nice here, and I have, at long last, a room of my own with a real mattress. Woo-hoo! More details to follow.

I do want to take a moment to sincerely thank those who have sent me e-mails, left well-wishing comments on my site, and/or kept me in their prayers. I can tell you now, and with certainty, that those prayers have made a difference, as I have thus far lived a fairly charmed life, wherein what should have been major inconveniences became minor ones, and a lot of minor problems never materialized for me, even though they plagued many of my colleagues. Also, and most importantly, I have been safe, and already have behind me 50% of what is easily the most dangerous part of deployment: transportation to and from the combat zone.

Your prayers are greatly appreciated, and have availed me much. I am humbled by your kindness, and grateful for it. Thank you.