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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1832234-A-Beach-With-no-Water
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by Ron Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Non-fiction · Military · #1832234
Chronicles my first few hours on the ground when in Kuwait before convoying to Iraq.
Thirty-six hours on an airplane is way too much. Now try sitting on that airplane for thirty-six hours in full battle rattle surrounded by 280 other people in that same gear. They all act tough and unafraid but inside they are scared. The fear dwells in me as well. At eighteen years old and this being the first time away from my parents for more than a week, fear is all that is in me right now. The pilot finally makes his announcement. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived in Kuwait. We here at U.S. Airlines know your final destination is Iraq. We just ask that you stay safe. Thank you all, and God bless.” With that being said it was time to file out of the plane and into my training ground for the next two weeks. It was about 2:15 P.M. and the heat was already at its peak.

Chief volunteered ten of us to offload the baggage and gear, and my name was the first one called. I laid my weapon and pack on the ground for the rest of Alfa Company to watch and headed towards the plane. Sure everyone could help out, but they didn’t, they just watched the ten of us sweat. It was already a staggering 109 degrees and I was unloading over five hundred bags at a minimum of fifty pounds each. The sun was big and bright; we were not prepared for this at all. We just got over winter back in the states. Finally a voice at the back of the plane called out “last one” and we would get our break. Turns out we didn’t get the break we needed; it was time to load up the vehicles and head to camp.

Some people might think that sitting on a bus on the way to camp is a break, but in this situation it is not. The bus has no air conditioning and the center aisle armrests fold down to reveal more chairs. I will never wonder what it feels like to be in a sardine can. Sardines have it lucky though, they are dead when they go in the can. It’s only sixteen miles to camp, but going through the soft unpacked sand of the desert we had to get off and on the bus four times so we could dig it out. You have never smelled body odor until you have been packed in a bus like that with sixty-four other people who have not showered or deodorized in four days. The smell, which had been intensified by the extreme heat, filled my nose and churned my stomach. If this sick feeling weren’t so strong, I would swear this was a bad dream. No place could be this miserable already. “Get out and clear your weapons so we can get into camp.” Music to my ears, the bus ride was over.

We were all shown pictures of the camp so we knew what to expect, but none of us could have prepared for it. We were far from the city’s view, or any view for that matter. The sun came at me from all directions. It even reflected off the sandy ground, there was no hiding from it. The heat was more intense out here in the middle of nowhere. The thermometer read 48 degrees Celsius, which converts to about 118 degrees Fahrenheit. It is only march, it will get much hotter. There was a breeze, but it felt like a blow dryer on high heat blowing right in my face. The breeze kicked up the sand which turned to mud on my face and hands.

While all the bags were being unloaded I took a moment too look around. There were about forty small tan tents with ten bunk beds in each one. We had no air conditioning which would make the nights terrible. There were two large tents that made up the galley, and finally one large tent with a sign in front of it that read “M.W.R.” This tent had air conditioning so it would always be packed. Three of us walked up the sand hill that surrounded the camp. Nobody spoke; we just stared at the nothing that surrounded us. We stared at the beach that continued on forever, a beach with no water.
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