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Friday, February 04, 2005
Moved to permanent quarters
So we’re finally here in our permanent quarters. We were told that it was a palace, ‘Chemical Ali’s’ summer home, I believe, and it’s all that… in a Third World sort of way; molded plastic ceilings, a few cheap chandeliers, and lots of broken tile (then again, maybe it was much nicer before two years of occupation by Army guys). Essentially, the whole country looks like a construction zone, at least the nice parts, and our ‘palace’ is no exception. Everything here and in Iraq in general is in a permanent state of decay and building, all at the same time. ‘Rustic’ doesn’t do it justice.
But we don’t care too much, because we have internet access and even cable. The food is trucked in twice a day from an Air Force base down the road in marmite containers. There’s even a pool, in the summer, and ‘a guy’ to maintain it. There’s also a running track that looks like something someone set down between the east and west borders of the Berlin Wall.
But we’re just happy to finally be at our home and to settle down and stop living out of duffle bags. Ironically though, we’re living out of duffles more than ever, at least for the next few days. The guys from the 25th Infantry Division are still here and won’t leave for a while yet. (They’re moving to the Air Force base while we continue to work together during the transition time.) So my platoon has 28 of our guys in a room about 12x60 because that’s the only place we can put them. Worse still, there was NO room for five of us, who find ourselves outside, poolside actually, in cots under an overhang. And wouldn’t it just figure that it would rain, New England style, with blowing cold winds.
In the midst of all this, I was feeling pretty blue. But then I met Mitch and things started to get better. Anyone meeting his penetrating gaze couldn’t help but be struck by how majestic and stunning he is. Mitch is, we think, a golden eagle. I hear that he flew into our compound and got stuck in the concertina wire. The medic from the 25th ID had to cut away much of his wing, so much so that he can no longer fly, and now we pay the local kids a few bucks to bring us a live rabbit for Mitch twice a week. He’s just so cool. I’ll try to get a few pictures of him sometime.
But we don’t care too much, because we have internet access and even cable. The food is trucked in twice a day from an Air Force base down the road in marmite containers. There’s even a pool, in the summer, and ‘a guy’ to maintain it. There’s also a running track that looks like something someone set down between the east and west borders of the Berlin Wall.
But we’re just happy to finally be at our home and to settle down and stop living out of duffle bags. Ironically though, we’re living out of duffles more than ever, at least for the next few days. The guys from the 25th Infantry Division are still here and won’t leave for a while yet. (They’re moving to the Air Force base while we continue to work together during the transition time.) So my platoon has 28 of our guys in a room about 12x60 because that’s the only place we can put them. Worse still, there was NO room for five of us, who find ourselves outside, poolside actually, in cots under an overhang. And wouldn’t it just figure that it would rain, New England style, with blowing cold winds.
In the midst of all this, I was feeling pretty blue. But then I met Mitch and things started to get better. Anyone meeting his penetrating gaze couldn’t help but be struck by how majestic and stunning he is. Mitch is, we think, a golden eagle. I hear that he flew into our compound and got stuck in the concertina wire. The medic from the 25th ID had to cut away much of his wing, so much so that he can no longer fly, and now we pay the local kids a few bucks to bring us a live rabbit for Mitch twice a week. He’s just so cool. I’ll try to get a few pictures of him sometime.
Posted by: Unknown / 3:13 PM 
